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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 
IN  THE  THEATRE 


3  6  8  0      9 


A  STUDr^NT  PRODUCTION  OF  "AJAx"  IN  THE  GREEK 
THEATRE,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

This  picture  might  well  provide  a  text  for  the  entire 
hook.  In  the  first  place  it  shows  a  theatre  that  was  built 
in  the  right  spirit^  preserving  all  the  beauty  and  dignity 
of  its  Greek  models y  but  without  slavish  archceological 
exactness^  and  yet  without  regard  to  the  false  limitations 
of  modern  ''stage  art.''  Then  there  is  the  simple y  almost 
hare,  setting;  it  shows  that  the  producers  realized  that  real 
drama  is  independent  of  the  artificial  ''scenery''  and 
crowdf:d  naturalistic  "properties"  that  clutter  up  the 
commercial  theatre  stages.  In  the  grouping  of  the  figures, 
too,  tk^re  is  a  fine  sense  of  design,  of  decoration,  a  realiza- 
tio.n  of  the  effectiveness  of  purely  visual  beauty;  and  in  the 
actors  themselves  a  refreshing  virginal  beauty  that  is 
almost  unknown  in  the  usual  sophisticated  American 
theatre.  Jnd  above  all  there  is  the  fact  that  something 
new  is  being  done,  that  these  people  are  breaking  away 
from  the  dry  conventions,  the  accepted  limitations  of  the 
older  theatre.    . 

All  these  thSngs  bespeak  change,  progress,  a  breaking 

from  tradition,   a  brave  independence  of  thought  and  deed, 

a  reaching  backward  and  forward  to  the  real  essential 

\eauties  dj-i^-  '\„taHc  art.     And  that  is  what  this  book  is 

about:   chiefiy   about   the.  breaking  away  from  tradition, 

and  the  spirit  of  change;   about  the  passing  from   the 

theatre  of  artificiality  and  a  false  naturnlism,  and  the 

coming  of  sincerity  and  design  and  decoration.     It  is  a 

book  of  living  changes,  and  not  of  dead  periods;  a  book 

of  the  present  and  future,  and  not  of  the  past. 


/ 


/ 


^; 


k. 


•f^-.A- 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 
IN  THE  THEATRE 


BY 
SHELDON  CHENEY 


'  J  *     •  ■-• 


NEW  YORK '  MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 

MCMXIV 


Copyright  igi^  by 
Mitchell  Kennerley 


•  •      •.  ^  • 


t  •  » f  I 


'    •  .  «i 


P  M 


C  A(i  1^ 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

I  have  a  certain  respect  for  authority,  but  very 
little  respect  for  what  is  commonly  taken  (like  medi- 
cine) as  authoritative  criticism.  If  a  point  of  view 
has  been  established  in  writing  these  essays,  it  is 
that  of  the  student.     The  "authority"  necessarily 

•^judges  by  set  standards,  and  when  vital  changes  come 

r!he  is  all  at  sea:  whereas  the  student  is  free  to  seek 

-gold  where  he  will.     Thus  I  have  sifted  the  sands 
of  many  a  new  current — and  here  the  resulting  treas- 

•^ures  are  offered  to  him  who  has  patience  to  read. 

^'If  the  authority  complain  that  the  offerings  have  not 
the  sanction  of  time,  I  may  only  retort  that  I  believe 

»^the  over-enthusiastic  student  is  a  better  guide  than 
the  over-cautious  critic.    Nothing  has  been  put  down 

^here  in  haste  or  without  thought.  If  my  judgments 
still  fail — if  I  seem  too  tolerant  toward  the  things 
that  are  new — it  must  be  because  futurism  appeals  to 
me  more  than  archaeology  as  a  force  for  progress 
in  art.  In  writing  of  the  arts  of  the  theatre  I  would 
rather  be  a  futurist  than  an  archivist. 

Of  the  essays  that  are  collected  in  this  volume 

a 


4  PREFATORY  NOTE 

three  are  now  published  for  the  first  time.  The 
others  have  appeared  in  The  Theatre  and  The 
Forum;  and  to  the  editors  of  these  magazines  I  am 
indebted  for  permission  to  reprint.  Although  all  of 
the  essays  have  been  rewritten,  to  shape  them  into  a 
definite  sequence  and  to  bring  out  the  continuity  of 
thought,  still  each  one  has  been  kept  complete  in  it- 
self, even  at  the  risk  of  repetition. 

Since  I  was  writing  of  a  contemporary  movement, 
most  of  the  material  came  from  the  theatre  itself,  or, 
failing  that,  from  newspaper  and  magazine  reviews. 
Still  I  wish  to  acknowledge  a  general  obligation  to 
three  books:  Gordon  Craig's  On  the  Art  of  the 
Theatre,  Jacques  Rouche's  L'Art  Theatral  Moderne, 
and  Huntly  Carter's  The  New  Spirit  in  Drama  and 
Art.  I  have  felt  that  the  best  expression  of  my 
gratitude  to  the  several  artists  of  the  theatre  who 
have  put  material  at  my  disposal,  would  be  to  treat 
the  work  of  each  justly  in  the  essays  themselves — 
and  this  I  have  done  as  far  as  my  ability  served. 

'    S.  C. 


CONTENTS 

Prefatory  Note 
Page  3 

Chapter  I     '^' 

THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  THE  THEATRE 
Page  13 
Conditions  Preceding  the  New  Movement — What  It  Is — 
Some  of  Its  Prophets — The  Three  Expressions  of  the  Move- 
ment— Re-theatralizing  the  Drama — A  Protest  Against  Nat-  ^ 
uralism — Psychological  Drama — The  School  of  Sincerity — 
Its  Leaders — The  New  Movement  in  America. 

Chapter  II 

THE  esthetic  theatre  MOVEMENT 

Page  45 
The  Theatre  "a  Place  for  Seeing"— Why  the  iEsthetic 
Drama  Is  the  Truest  Art  of  the  Theatre — Gordon  Craig — 
His  Theatre  of  Marionettes — Max  Reinhardt  and  the 
Mimo-drama — Sumurun — Leo  Bakst  and  the  Dance- 
Drama. 

Chapter  III 

the   new   ENGLISH   DRAMATISTS 

Page  67 

Psychological  Drama  on  the  Continent — ^The  Creed  of  the 

English    School — John   Galsworthy   and    His   Plays — Ber- 


CONTENTS 

lard  Shaw — Other  Important  Playwrights  of  To-day  and 
To-morrow. 

Chapter  IV 

THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT  AND  THE  DRAMA  OF 

SINCERITY 
Page  gi 
The  Tendency  of  the  American  Playwright — His  Short- 
comings— Their  Causes — Percy  MacKaye,  Josephine  Pres- 
ton Peabody,  and  the  Poetic  Drama — MacKaye's  Antithe- 
sis, Eugene  Walter— Other  Representative  Playwrights  and 
Their  Work. 

Chapter  V 

THE   NEW  stage-craft 

Page  121  . 

Staging  In  Its  Relation  to  the  Production  as  a  Whole — The^\\ 
Fundamentals  of  the  New  Stage-craft — How  They  Are 
Attained— Examples  of  the  Old  and  New  School  -Certain 
Architectural  Details — Practitioners  of  the  New  Stage-craft  ^^  ^ 
— Gordon  Craig  and  the  Germans. 

Chapter  VI 

the  failure  of  the  AMERICAN  PRODUCER 

Page  151 
The   Realization   of   a   False   Ideal — David   Belasco — His      \ 
Theory — His  Practice — Lavishness  and  Realism — Their  Ef-  ^ 
feet  on  the  Audience — The  Boston  Toy  Theatre— The  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre — Other  Followers  of  the  New  Stage- 
craft in  America. 


CONTENTS     / V  1 

-  V 
Chapter  VII 

THE  REAL  PROGRESS  OF  THE  AMERICAN  THEATRE 

Page  i77  .^ 

The  Experimental  Theatre  versus  Commercialism — The  Art 

V Theatre  in  Chicago,  Boston,  and  New  York — Drama  in  the 
Universities — Harvard,  the  Dramatic  Workshop — ^The  Uni- 
versity of  California  and  Its  Revivals — Activities  Elsewhere 
— Effect  of  the  Experimental  Theatre  on  Broadway — The 
Qpen  Air  Theatre — Its  Limitations — The  Greek  Theatre 
of  the  University  of  California — ^The  Open  Air  Theatre  a 
Factor  Toward  Greater  Democracy. 

Chapter  VIII 

SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE 

Page  207 

Present  Theatre  Construction  and  Decoration — The  The- 
atre Should  Be  a  Temple  of  Art — Certain  Things  an  Archi-  \ 
tect   Should    Have   in    Mind — Modern   Stage-craft   as   It 
Affects  Theatre  Construction — Scenery,   Revolving  Stage, 
etc. — Fortuny  Lighting — Professor  Max  Littmann. 

Chapter  IX 

ON  applause  in   THE  THEATRE 

Page  231 

A  Useless  Disturbance — Actors  on  Applause — A  Pica  for 


Silence. 


>»«« 


8  CONTENTS 

Chapter  X 

A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE 

Page  243 

Original  Meaning  of  the  Words:  "Theatre,"  "Drama"— 
The  Difference  Between  Them — Various  Activities  of  the 
Theatre — The  ^Esthetic  Drama — The  Drama  of  Emotion 
— ^The  Drama  of  Thought — Definition  of  Some  of  the 
Xerms  Used. 

Chapter  XI 

GORDON  CRAIG's   SERVICE  TO  THE  THEATRE 

Page  275 

Gordon  Craig,  Innovator — His  Point  of  Departure — His 
Creed — His  Fitness  for  His  Work — The  Puppet-theatre — 
the  Mimo-drama — Craig's  Influence  on  the  Staging  of  Mod- 
ern Psychological  Plays — Certain  Misconceptions  Dispelled 
— ^What  the  Theatre  Ovi^es  to  Gordon  Craig. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


TACOTO 


A  Student  Production  of  "Ajax"  in  the  Greek  'ace 
Theatre,  University  of  California      Frontispiece 

Scene  from  "Twelfth  Night,"  as  Produced  by 

Granville  Barker  32 

The  Palace  Exterior  in  "Sumurun"  48 

The  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds  58 

The  New  Adaptable  Settings  106 

Max  Reinhart's  Production  of  *'Hamlet"  130 

The  New  Stage-Craft  140 

A  Belasco  Setting  154 

An  Awful  Example  164 

A  Christmas  Pantomime  at  the  Chicago  Little 

Theatre  186 

The  Greek  Theatre  at  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia 196 

The  Greek  Theatre  at  Point  Loma  202 

The  Munich  Art  Theatre  212 

The  Little  Theatre,  New  York  222 

An  Opera  Setting  by  Joseph  Urban  256 

Gordon  Craig's  Screen  Settings  290 

9 


THE   NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  THE 
THEATRE 


THE   NEW  MOVEMENT   IN  THE 
THEATRE 


When  the  peoples  of  the  earth  entered  upon  the 
present  period  of  progress,  reconsidering  the  old 
standards  and  traditions  in  every  other  activity  of 
life,  they  curiously  neglected  the  theatre.  Looking 
back  in  dramatic  history  only  a  very  few  years,  one 
may  see  a  condition  of  stagnation  unstirred  by  any 
dissatisfaction  with  old  forms,  and  untroubled  by  any 
thought  for  the  demands  of  art.  Even  the  traditions 
of  the  church  were  challenged  before  those  of  the 
playhouse. 

But  in  a  very  few  years  the  new  movement  in 
the  theatre  has  germinated  and  budded,  so  that  to- 
day there  is  very  definite  promise  of  such  a  flowering 
as  the  drama  has  not  known  since  the  days  of  Queen 
Ehzabeth.  In  remarkable  strides  the  theatre  is 
catching  up  with  life,  and — it  is  quite  as  important, 
though  generally  forgotten — with  art.  Within  a 
decade  there  has  been  Infused  into  the  old  body 

13 


14  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

more  new  blood  than  for  three  centuries  before. 
4T4*e  n^w  spirit  th«t  has  come  into  the  dramatic 
world  is  the  spirit  of  change — of  experiment.  It  is 
the  spirit  of  dissatisfaction  with  traditional  forms, 
which  has  entered  not  only  into  the  arts  but  into 
every  activity  of  civilization.  The  men  and  women 
of  the  world  are  busy  breaking  down  the  prejudices 
of  the  centuries  in  religion,  in  economics,  in  art. 
They  are  busy,  too,  creating  new  standards  of  relig- 
ious and  economic  conduct  that  are  more  just  and 
more  free  than  the  old,  and  creating  new  forms  of 
art  that  are  less  cramped  and  more  beautiful  than 
those  the  world  heretofore  has  known. 

The  remarkable  expansion  of  the  dramatic  arts  is 
merely  a  reflection  of  humanity's  desire  and  effort 
for  fuller  living,  fuller  experience,  and  fuller  expres- 
sion. It  is  a  part  of  the  pushing-out  in  all  directions 
that  is  termed  modern  human  progress. 

When  such  widely  antithetical  figures  as  Gordon 
Craig  and  John  Galsworthy,  as  Max  Reinhardt  and 
Brieux,  are  among  the  leaders  of  the  movement  in 
the  theatre,  it  is  not  remarkable  that  there  is  much 
confusion  concerning  it  in  the  minds  of  drama-lovers. 
The  development  is  in  such  widely  diversified  direc- 
tions, and  it  is  so  much  a  reflection  of  the  life  of 
change  which  all  of  us  are  living  to-day,  that  im- 
personal judgment  is  exceedingly  difficult,  and  an 
adequate  summary  of  the  movement  almost  impos- 
sible.   But  now,  without  being  able  to  catalogue  and 


N 


THE  OTIA^  MOVEMENT  15 

pigeon-hole  the  many  artists  and  productions  con- 
cerned, the  close  observer  still  may  note  two  well- 
defined  general  trends  of  progress.  Through  the 
many  changes  in  form  and  treatment,  two  very  dis- 
tinct new  notes  are  struck. 

The  breaking  down  of  the  old  theory  and  the 
old  rules  has  come  in  two  ways :  first  through  the  _:^ 
attempt  to  reach  back  to  an  art  that  is  typically 
theatric,  and  at  the  same  time  purely  aesthetic;  and 
second  through  the  attempt  to  develop  the  existing 
drama  to  a  form  more  typically  dramatic,  and  at  the 
same  time  social  and  indirectly  intellectual. 

The  old  theory  of  the  theatre  made  no  distinction 
between  what  was  typically  theatric  and  what  was 
typically  dramatic.  The  new  artists  of  the  theatre 
not  only  make  that  distinction,  but  are  pushing  their 
experiments  as  far  as  possible  to  each  extreme.  Thus 
the  first  significant  current  of  progress  is  in  the  devel- 
opment of  an  art  of  the  theatre  that  is  visual  and 
decorative  and  that  appeals  primarily  to  the  out- 
ward senses;  whereas  the  second  significant  achieve- 
ment is  in  the  development  of  an  intensive  drama 
dependent  upon  character-development  and  develop- 
ment of  idea  through  story,  and  appealing  to  the 
emotions  and  intellect. 

The  one  new  form  is  the  esthetic  drama:  a  typical 
theatric  art  that  is  as  far  as  possible  removed  from 
the  emotional  and  intellectual  elements,  tending  to 
become  purely  sensuous.     The  other  new  form  is 


\ 

\ 


s 


i6  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  intensive  drama  of  emotion  and  thought:  a 
drama  divorced  as  far  as  possible  from  visual  and 
sensuous  appeals,  affording  deep  emotional  experi- 
ence and  intellectual  stimulus.  In  studying  these  two 
extreme  types  one  may  find  a  third  significant  de- 
velopment where  the  two  currents  touch,  where  the 
jesthetic  theatre  movement  and  the  intensive  drama 
movement  border  and  fuse.  This  third  development 
may  be  called  the  re-theatralizing  of  the  drama ;  it  is 
the  attempt  to  bring  all  the  arts  of  the  theatre  into 
more  perfect  relation  with  the  limitations  of  the 
playhouse;  and  to  invent  a  stage-craft  that  will  serve 
to  mount  beautifully  the  plays  of  either  the  aesthetic 
or  psychologic  type. 

Both  of  the  extreme  new  forms  are  protests 
against  the  latter-day  stagnation  of  the  theatre. 
Both  are  revolts  from  artificial  conventions  and  tra- 
ditional standards.  But  while  one,  the  drama  of 
thought,  is  a  new  building  on  the  old  dramatic  foun- 
dations, the  other,  the  aesthetic  theatre,  is  a  new  crea- 
tion from  the  ground  up,  a  form  diametrically  oppo- 
site to  the  accepted  dramatic  productions  in  its  very 
conception  of  the  first  principles  of  theatre  art.  The 
term  "the  new  art  of  the  theatre"  usually  has  been 
applied  to  the  aesthetic  drama,  rather  than  to  the 
drama  of  thought;  and  when  one  speaks  of  the  se- 
cessionists from  the  regular  theatre,  or  of  the  revo- 
lutionists, the  names  that  come  to  mind  are  Gordon 
Craig  and  Max  Reinhardt  and  Leon  Bakst,  rather 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  17 

than  Ibsen,  Shaw,  Galsworthy  and  Brieux.  Because 
the  Craig-Bakst  development  Is  more  clearly  an  ab- 
solute revolt,  it  is  the  better  point  of  attack  in  con- 
sidering the  whole  movement. 


II 


The  inception  of  the  aesthetic  theatre  came  per- 
haps twenty  years  ago  as  a  reaction  from  the  current 
cut-and-dried  form  of  play.  A  few  enthusiasts  real- 
ized that  the  contemporary  production  in  the  theatre 
was  without  artistic  unity,  ranging  from  mere  banal- 
ity on  the  one  hand  to  a  conscious  didacticism  on  the 
other,  but  seldom  touching  within  the  realms  of  art. 
If  there  was  an  "advanced  drama"  movement,  it 
was  merely  an  attempt  to  make  the  theatre  an  inter- 
preter of  undramatic  literature.  The  visionaries,  as 
men  termed  them,  dreamed  of  an  art  of  the  theatre 
that  would  be  true  to  the  underlying  principles  of 
all  art,  imaginative,  creative,  and  unified,  and  at  the 
same  time  true  to  the  visual  element  implied  in  the 
word  "theatre."  Out  of  their  dreams  have  come  the 
several  developments  which  together  make  up  the 
esthetic  theatre:  the  marionette  dramas  of  Gordon 
Craig;  the  mimo-dramas  of  Craig  and  Max  Rein- 
hardt;  the  dance-dramas;  and,  less  directly,  the  re- 
vival of  pageantry. 
'  The  aesthetic  theatre  movement  as  a  whole  bears 


i8  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

to  the  regular  theatre  the  relationship  of  Impression- 
ism to  all  painting;  In  its  appeal  to  the  senses,  it  is 
to  all  drama  what  Swinburne's  musical  verse  is  to 
literature.  '  In  aesthetics,  it  is  on  that  side  of  the 
dramatic  field  which  borders  on  music.  It  is  con- 
ventional and  impressionistic,  rather  than  realistic. 
Instead  of  relying  chiefly  upon  theme  or  story,  which 
kindle  the  emotions  through  subtleties  of  thought 
conveyed  in  words,  this  new  form  makes  its  sensuous 
appeal  to  eye  and  ear — mainly  through  pure  beauty 
of  sight  and  sound.  'Its  essence  is  action  in  the  visual 
sense :  physical  movement  rather  than  story-develop- 
ment. In  subject-matter  it  is  necessarily  removed 
from  the  present;  it  is  the  revelation  of  imagination, 
rather  than  the  reflection  of  life;  to  merely  imitate 
life,  its  followers  argue,  is  not  artistic  creation.  In 
order  that  the  appeal  to  the  senses  may  be  simple 
and  suggestive,  creating  sustained  mood,  it  affords 
perfect  unity  and  harmony  of  component  parts,  as, 
for  instance,  of  action,  music  and  setting. 

Gordon  Craig  first  advanced  the  principles  of  an 
aesthetic  theatre  in  print,  and  first  applied  them  to 
practical  production.  It  is  worth  while  to  trace  his 
development  in  some  detail,  more  than  that  of  any 
other  leader  of  the  £esthetic  movement. 

When  Gordon  Craig  came  Into  the  theatre  as  di- 
rector of  staging,  he  brought  with  him  knowledge 
gained  from  the  double  training  as  actor  and  decora- 
tive artist.    Knowing  the  principles  of  art,  he  recog- 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  19 

nized  the  almost  total  lack  of  art  in  his  own  pro- 
fession. He  expressed  the  then  revolutionary  con- 
viction that  there  were  living  no  true  artists  of  the 
theatre.  In  order  that  the  dramatic  production 
may  be  a  thing  of  unity  and  harmony,  he  argued, 
there  must  be  one  creativejiiiadjiirectji^ 
a  mind  capable  of^nceiving  and  writing  the  play 
or  scenario,  of  designing  the  setting  and  lighting  and 
costuming,  and  of  training  the  actors.  Only  in  this 
way  can  the  production  be  a  thing  of  prevision,  and 
of  definite  design.  Any  artistic  ensemble  would  be 
spoiled  when  left  undirected  to  the  confused  inven- 
tion of  playwright,  manager,  scene  painter,  carpen- 
ter, actor,  and  the  hundred  others  concerned  in  the 
average  theatre  "show." 

Studying  all  the  elements  of  dramatic  art,  in  their 
entirety,  as  no  man  ever  had  studied  them  before, 
Gordon  Craig  deduced  certain  principles  that  he 
believed  should  govern  all  the  arts  of  the  theatre. 
In  general  they  are  the  principles  that  underlie  every 
later  development  of  the  sesthetic  theatre.  As  here 
summarized,  they  may  be  considered  as  fairly  expres- 
sive of  the  ideals  of  the  entire  movement,  though 
certain  departures  and  differing  emphasis  will  be 
noted  in  the  several  individual  forms. 
■^  In  the  first  place  the  whole  production  must  be 
^' woven  into  a  single  fabric,  conceived  and  executed  in 
unity  and  harmony — implying  in  the  artist  an  under- 
standing of  every  department  of  theatre  work,  and 


20  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  ability  to  synthesize  all  the  elements.  In  order 
that  the  resultant  mood  may  be  sustained,  the  drama 
must  be  stripped  of  every  unnecessary  detail  of  story 
and  of  setting:  thus  the  attention  will  not  be  dis- 
tracted from  the  spiritual  and  imaginative  essence  of 
the  production  to  those  things  which  are  of  interest 
In  themselves  but  contribute  nothing  to  the  main 
design.  Archaeological  accuracy  in  detail  of  setting, 
and  historical  truth  in  story,  may  be  entirely  disre- 
garded, as  long  as  the  production  carries  to  the  spec- 
tator the  more  intangible  sense  of  beauty  of  atmos- 
phere and  artistic  truth.  In  the  selection  of  material 
the  accidentally  striking  and  the  photographically 
correct  will  give  way  to  that  which  is  characteris- 
tically beautiful.  The  imaginative  story  must  be 
neither  immoral  nor  consciously  moral;  simply  un- 
moral The  setting  must  be  decorative  but  unob- 
trusive, and  must  in  color  and  form  strike  the  key- 
note of  the  production;  the  "scenery"  should  serve 
merely  as  a  harmonious  background  for  the  action, 
and  not,  by  any  striking  beauty  of  its  own,  draw  at- 
tention to  itself.  The  lighting  should  be  beautiful 
rather  than  imitative  of  nature,  and  should  serve  to 
heighten  the  atmospheric  illusion.  The  costumes 
should  be  part  of  the  decorative  scheme  in  color  and 
design.  In  order  that  the  actors  may  become  part 
of  the  harmonious  whole,  they  must  realize  the  value 
of  directed  movement,  and  give  up  the  inartistic  at- 
tempt to  appear  "natural"  through  individual  tricks 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  21 

and  "realistic"  restlessness.  Rhythm  of  line  and 
form  should  make  the  movement  and  grouping  of 
the  actors  a  very  valuable  decorative  feature.  In 
fact,  decorative  movement  should  be  of  the  very  es- 
sence of  the  production. 

In  following  out  these  more  general  principles  of 
dramatic  production  to  their  logical  conclusion,  Gor- 
don Craig  developed  a  particular  form  of  theatre 
art,  the  silent  drama  of  mpnonettes  When  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  tht  production  must  be  the 
work  of  one  man,  he  started  to  simplify  by  discard- 
ing every  unnecessary  member  of  the  producing  staff ; 
he  was  able  to  eliminate  scene  painter,  costume 
designer,  and  stage  manager,  by  himself  design- 
ing the  settings,  costumes  and  action,  and  personally 
directing  their  execution.  But  it  was  impossible  for 
him  personally  to  do  the  work  of  the  actors.  But 
living  actors,  with  emotions  of  their  own,  he  argued, 
cannot  subordinate  themselves  to  the  will  of  the  di- 
rector to  the  extent  of  obeying  him  absolutely  in 
movement  and  expression;  and  the  director  must 
work  only  in  materials  yielding  an  absolute  response 
to  his  own  impulses.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
do:  abolish  the  actor,  and  find  an  absolutely  re- 
sponsive substitute.  He  substituted  the  "super-mar- 
ionettr  The  change  necessitated  a  drama  of  si- 
lence;  ./ut  far  from  being  distressed  by  this  limita- 
tion, Gordon  Craig  found  it  to  be  an  advantage; 
for,  he  argued,  the  strong  feelings  of  primitive  and 


22  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

imaginative  stories  can  be  expressed  better  by  ges- 
tures than  by  words.  So  there  came  into  being  the 
first  form  of  aesthetic  drama,  an  art  of  silent  mari- 
onettes acting  a  simple  and  elemental  story,  appeal- 
ing to  the  senses  by  the  harmony  and  rhythm  and 
sensuous  beauty  of  perfectly  blended  movement, 
lighting  and  setting. 

Though  one  of  the  first  forms  to  be  evolved  from 
the  new  conception  of  theatre  art,  and  though  more 
closely  approximating  the  impersonal  sensuous  ideal 
than  any  other,  the  new  marionette  drama  still  re- 
mains to  some  extent  an  unproved  form.  It  is  one 
of  the  three  or  four  very  significant  phases  of  the 
new  aesthetic  art,  but  Gordon  Craig  and  his  fellow- 
artists  have  worked  under  such  handicaps  of  imper- 
fect equipment  and  limited  resources  that  the  marion- 
ette theatre  is  yet  to  come  to  its  full  perfection.  It 
has  shown  the  possibility,  and  even  the  probability, 
of  taking  a  very  important  place  among  the  theatre 
arts;  but  its  effectiveness  is  in  some  measure  pro- 
visional until  it  becomes  less  an  art  of  the  few. 

To  Gordon  Craig  must  be  given  the  credit  for 
recreating  the  art  of  pantomime,  that  in  its  new  and 
more  artistic  form  has  been  rechristened  the  "mimo- 
drama."  But  while  Craig  undoubtedly  paved  the 
way  for  the  perfection  of  this  second  of  the  forms 
of  aesthetic  drama,  it  is  no  less  true  that  Max  Rein- 
hardt  has  carried  it  farthest  along  the  road  to  that 
perfection. 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  23 

Professor  Reinhardt  has  been  practically  and 
commercially  more  successful  than  any  other  artist 
of  the  aesthetic  theatre  movement.  Instead  of  work- 
ing slowly  and  patiently,  bringing  forth  with  infinite 
pains  a  very  few  plays,  and  those  only  for  a  very 
select  audience,  he  has  put  on  the  stage  in  a  few  years 
a  remarkably  large  number  of  surprisingly  varied 
productions.  Necessarily  some  were  uninteresting, 
some  were  bizarre,  and  many  were  only  imperfectly 
expressive  of  the  new  ideals.  Thus  Professor  Rein- 
hardt gained  the  name  of  "realist-symbolist,"  with 
the  implied  contradiction  of  material  and  method. 
Nevertheless  "The  Miracle"  and  "Sumurun,"  pro- 
duced under  his  direction,  are  the  most  typical  ex- 
amples of  the  mimo-drama  that  have  been  given  to 
the  world.  "Sumurun"  was  one  of  the  few  actual 
dramas  of  the  aesthetic  theatre  produced  in  America. 
It  had  touches  of  a  bizarre  sort  of  reahsm,  and  of 
sensationahsm,  that  were  Reinhardt's  personal  addi- 
tions to  the  new  ideas;  nevertheless  it  was  very  typi- 
cal of  the  whole  zesthetic  theatre  in  its  wordless  pre- 
sentation of  the  story,  in  its  dependence  upon  sensu- 
ous beauty  of  component  parts,  and  in  its  flat  neu- 
trally-toned settings,  which  often  were  mere  hang- 
ings. Altogether  Reinhardt  has  been  more  instru- 
mental than  any  other  artist  of  the  theatre  in  forcing 
a  general  acceptance  of  the  underlying  principles  of 
the  aesthetic  drama.    Certainly  the  mimo-drama  as 


24  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

he  has  developed  it  is  the  most  widely  recognized  of 
all  the  activities  of  the  aesthetic  theatre. 

There  is  more  than  mere  coincidence  in  the  paral- 
lel between  the  growth  of  the  aesthetic  theatre  and 
the  revival  of  pageantry.  The  pageant  was  one  of 
the  earliest  expressions  of  man's  dramatic  instinct, 
and  its  growth  to  artistic  proportions  is  no  new  de- 
velopment, to  be  credited  to  any  late  phase  of  thea- 
tre expansion.  Accurately  speaking,  the  pageant  is 
not  of  the  theatre.  But  in  its  way  of  appeal  it  dis- 
tinctly is  allied  with  the  forms  of  art  that  Gordon 
Craig  and  Max  Reinhardt  have  developed.  And  its 
recent  achievement  of  a  long-lost  splendor,  and  par- 
ticularly its  occasional  accomplishment  of  a  purely 
aesthetic  ideal,  shadow  forth  clearly  the  debt  it  owes 
to  the  new  arts  of  the  theatre.  When  least  con- 
cerned with  literary  or  historical  subject,  and  most 
dependent  upon  the  movement  of  decorative  masses 
of  figures,  and  upon  the  beauty  of  dancing  and  cos- 
tumes and  setting,  the  pageant  may  well  be  con- 
sidered a  worthy  form  of  mimo-drama,  deserving  a 
distinct  place  in  the  new  alignment  of  the  dramatic 
arts. 

Of  all  the  arts  of  the  theatre,  the  "dance-drama" 
is  farthest  removed  from  the  literary  or  psychologic 
drama.  It  is  the  form  of  aesthetic  drama  that  most 
completely  subordinates  subject-interest  to  beauty  of 
expression.  In  its  most  notable  type,  the  Russian  Bal- 
let, it  approaches  music  in  the  pure  sensuousness  of 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  25 

its  appeal.  Like  opera,  it  15  in  some  measure  a  bas- 
tard form,  calling  in  music  as  one  of  its  elements; 
but  it  is  more  truly  an  ar:  of  the  theatre  because 
the  visual  remains  the  dominant  appeal.  The  dance- 
drama  is  lilce  the  arts  of  Ciaig  and  Reinhardt  in  its 
first  principles  of  unity  and  harmony:  but  the  synthe- 
sis here  is  one  of  dancing,  music,  and  decorative  and 
colorful  setting.  Fhe  stags-setting,  instead  of  re- 
maining a  mere  neutral  background,  becomes  one  of 
the  three  very  important  sources  of  compelling 
beauty;  and  the  blended  beauty  of  movement,  sound 
and  scenic  decoration  appeals  simultaneously  to  the 
eye  and  ear.  The  Russian  Ballet  has  brought  the 
painter-decorator  into  the  theatre,  and  has  given  to 
such  artists  as  Leon  Bakst  an  opportunity  to  paint 
gorgeous  stage-pictures  in  terms  of  miles  of  canvas 
and  great  masses  of  moving  figures.  Moreover  it 
has  brought  back  the  poetry  o  *  dancing  from  its  tem- 
porary exile. 

Such  are  the  easily  distinguished  forms  of  the 
aesthetic  drama:  the  marionette  play;  the  mimo- 
drama ;  the  re-created  pageant;  and  the  dance-drama. 
If  the  movement  brought  forth  no  other  forms,  or 
no  other  phases  than  those  described,  it  still  would 
be  notable  as  one  of  the  great  creative  developments 
of  theatre  art.  And  yet  there  are  other  less  definitely 
developed  types,  other  phases  which  so  closely  shade 
into  those  enumerated  that  it  is  difficult  to  differen- 
tiate them.    Thus  there  is  a  certain  sort  of  poetic 


26  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

drama  that  has  been  staged  with  the  visual  and 
aesthetic  appeals  emphasized;  there  are  certain  forms 
of  spectacle  that  have  been  almost  divorced  from 
the  distracting  episodic  action  and  the  distracting 
pursuit  of  naturalism  that  so  commonly  degrade 
spectacle;  and  there  is  the  so-called  "relief-drama." 
These  phases  may  well  carry  us  over  to  the  consider- 
ation of  the  middle  giound,  to  that  development 
where  the  aesthetic  theatre  fuses  with  the  new  inten- 
sive psychologic  drama:  to  the  movement  that  has 
been  termed  the  "re-theatralizing  of  the  drama." 


Ill 

The  re-theatralizing  of  the  drama  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  attempt  to  perfect  the  visual  side  of 
plays  that  are  typically  dramatic,  that  is,  that  are 
dependent  upon  the  sustained  appeal  of  uninter- 
rupted action :  the  attempt  to  fit  more  perfecdy  to  the 
theatre  the  forms  of  drama  that  are  least  theatric. 
It  has  resulted  in  the  creation  of  a  new  stage-craft 
that  permits  the  mounting  of  plays  of  every  kind  in 
beautiful  style,  without  drawing  the  spectator's  at- 
tention from  the  story-development;  and  it  has 
brought  about  a  total  discrediting  of  the  naturalistic 
method  of  theatre  production.  The  new  stager 
craftsmen  have  "theatralized"  many  an  old  drama 
that  formerly  hadjipthing  but  a  literary  appeal;  or 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  27 

that  perhaps  had  served  in  the  theatre  merely  as  a 
centre  around  which  an  enterprising  producer  built 
all  sorts  of  naturalistic  "effects."  They  have  brought 
every  sort  of  drama  into  proper  relationship  with 
the  playhouse,  accentuating  the  purely  decorative  or 
visual  elements  when  possible,  but  always  fitting  the 
method  of  setting  to  the  spirit  of  the  play. 

The  truth  is  that  the  principles  of -setting  that  Gor- 
don Craig  and  his  followers  have  worked  out  are 
those  which  should  apply  to  every  production  in  the 
theatre,  whether  aimed  to  appeal  primarily  to  the 
senses,  like  the  aesthetic  drama,  or  not.  That  the 
setting  of  the  drama  should  be  beautiful  gc  t-n<:f-pfiil 
in  itself,  that  it  should  be  in  harrnony^th..the  e.s^en- 
tial  spirit  of  the^roduction^x-ev-en-strike  a  keynote 
for  the  whole  production,  and  that  it  should  be  un- 
obtrusive and '"so""Hesrgned_^s  not  to  distract  .?ttp-a- 
tion_from  the  more  importagt-nctiofi-,-  are  principles 
that  seem  obvious  enough  now  that  Craig  has  stated 
them.  But  they  were  practically  never  applied  to 
staging  until  he  came  into  the  theatre.  Now,  how- 
ever, there  Is  a  very  definite  movement  toward  their 
acceptance,  and  against  the  naturalism  which  David 
Belasco  in  America,  and  Sir  Herbert  Tree  in  Eng- 
land, have  so  exploited. 

The  artists  of  the  new  movement  have  shown  that 
even  the  simplest  hangings,  with  their  long  lines  and 
restful  masses,  are  more  fitted  to  be  the  background 
of  the  average  drama  than  the  usual  tawdry  flapping 


28  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

scenery.  They  have  pointed  out  the  impossibility  of 
making  painted  perspective  look  right  from  more 
than  one  point  in  the  auditorium,  and  the  inevitable 
discrepancy  between  the  painted  and  the  actual 
shadows;  and  they  have  shown  how  each  superfluous 
object  on  the  stage  tends  to  draw  the  eye  away  from 
the  action.  Now  even  those  producers  who  are 
farthest  removed  from  the  ideals  of  the  aesthetic 
theatre  are  recognizing  that  the  acceptance  of  these 
principles  is  less  a  fad  than  a  return  to  the  founda- 
tions which  underlie  all  true  dramatic  art. 

Gordon  Craig  has  perfected  a  new  system  of 
screen  settings,  which  are  easily  shifted,  thus  doing 
away  with  the  necessity  of  long  waits  between  the 
acts;  which  do  not  interfere  with  lighting  from  the 
top  and  sides,  thus  allowing  the  inartistic  footlight 
to  be  eliminated;  and  which  provide  a  neutral  and 
harmonious  background  for  the  action.  Using  these 
screens  as  the  setting  for  the  so-called  poetic  or 
literary  drama,  Craig  has  achieved  much  the  same 
success  in  harmonizing  action,  lighting  and  setting 
as  in  the  pure  aesthetic  drama.  His  production  of 
"Hamlet"  at  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre,  with  no  other 
background  than  a  series  of  folding  cream-colored 
screens,  shifted  into  differing  combinations  and 
bathed  in  varying  lights  to  afford  the  proper  atmos- 
pheric moods,  was  remarked  by  discerning  critics 
as  bringing  a  new  significance  to  Shakespeare  in  the 
theatre. 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  29 

When  Max  Reinhardt  "theatrallzes"  a  play  he  is 
likely  to  strain  it  out  of  all  semblance  to  its  original 
self.  Where  Craig  is  jealous  to  preserve  all  that 
the  original  dramatist  intended,  conceiving  this  part 
of  his  theatre  work  as  merely  interpretative,  Rein- 
hardt produces  something  typically  Reinhardtian 
though  usually  reminiscent  of  the  thing  with  which 
he  started.  Thus  he  metamorphosed  "Qidipus  Rex" 
into  a  production  startlingly  effective,  but  hardly  true 
to  the  spirit  of  the  play  or  to  the  best  ideals  of 
dramatic  art.  But  Reinhardt  has  at  times  been  one" 
of  the  most  successful  of  those  who  attempt  to  stage 
the  masterpieces  of  drama  according  to  the  new  con- 
ception of  theatre  art.  He  probably  has  directed 
more  productions  in  which  the  stage-art  perfectly 
fitted  the  play  than  any  other  man  of  the  theatre. 
Both  Max  Reinhardt  and  George  Fuchs  had  much 
to  do  with  the  development  of  the  "relief-theatre," 
where  the  aim  is  to  accentuate  the  decorative  value 
of  the  moving  figures,  by  the  use  of  a  very  shallow 
stage  and  a  very  flat  background.  On  the  relief- 
stage  the  actors  stand  out  almost  exactly  like  statues 
on  a  bas-relief  panel. 

In  Germany  there  are  many  theatres  where  the 
drama  is  being  produced  with  the  literary  element 
subordinated  as  far  as  possible  and  the  more  truly 
theatric  elements  emphasized.  In  no  other  country 
have  the  theatres  such  adequate  equipment,  and  in  no 
other  country  are  there  so  many  directors  and  design- 


30  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

ers  who  understand  the  principles  of  the  new  stage- 
craft— and,  parenthetically,  nowhere  else  has  the  new 
art  been  carried  to  such  bizarre  and  sensational  ex- 
tremes. But  there  are  leaders  elsewhere:  Constan- 
tin  Stanislavsky  in  Russia,  Alexander  Hevesi  in 
Hungary,  Jacques  Rouche  in  France.  These  men 
are  working  continually  toward  the  simplification 
and  the  unification  of  the  whole  fabric  of  the  drama. 
They  are  teaching  that  the  scenic  background  may 
be  decorative  and  yet  harmonious  and  unobtrusive; 
and  they  are  carrying  on  the  fine  battle  against  nat- 
uralism in  stage  setting.  Even  in  England,  that  dealt 
so  impatiently  with  Gordon  Craig's  new  ideas,  there 
recently  have  been  productions  in  the  new  style,  un- 
der the  direction  of  Granville  Barker;  and  in  Amer- 
ica there  are  the  first  stirrings  of  a  new  theatre  con- 
science. 


IV 


There  is  a  curious  intolerance  in  the  attitude  of 
the  followers  of  the  aesthetic  theatre  toward  the 
psychologic  or  intensive  drama,  and  often  an  un- 
fortunate impatience  among  the  followers  of  the 
latter  art  toward  the  former.  Probably  the  cause 
is  to  be  found  in  that  the  followers  of  the  one  form 
continually  visualize  the  other  in  its  imperfections, 
while  they  are  able,  through  long  poring  over  their 
own  type,  to  see  it  in  its  ultimate  ideal  beauty.     As 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  31 

a  matter  of  fact  the  aesthetic  theatre  and  the  best 
development  of  the  psychologic  are  similar  in  that 
both  are  reactions  from  the  old  and  generally  ac- 
cepted inartistic  forms.  While  contrasted,  both  are 
founded  on  the  principles  of  art,  and  are  returns  to,, 
simplicity,  unity  and  truth.  Both  are  distinctly  arts 
of  the  theatre,  even  though  one  is  more  typically 
theatric.  The  differences  are  not  in  the  fundamental 
art  principles,  but  in  the  authors'  aims,  and  in  their 
emphasis  on  material.  To  say  that  the  lover  of 
drama  cannot  appreciate  the  one  form  and  remain 
true  to  the  other,  is  like  saying  that  one  cannot  ap- 
preciate both  painting  and  sculpture,  or  that  one  can- 
not recognize  the  richly  delicate  beauty  of  an  etching 
and  still  feel  the  charm  of  a  Japanese  print. 

"Psychologic  drama-"  -is-  a-  term  coined  to  identify 
all  those  forms  of  drama  which  appeal  primarily  to 
the  emotions  and  intellect,  as  distinguished  from 
the  aesthetic  drama,  which  appeals  primarily  to  the 
senses.  The  psychologic  drama Js. the  more  typically.^ 
dramatic  art  of  the  theatre,  the  aesthetic  drama 
the  more  typically  theatric.  Where  the  latter  appeals 
by  outward  charm  of  movement,  lighting,  color,  and 
sound,  the  former  appeals  by  the  subtle  development 
of  a  story  of  human  souls.  The  psychologic  drama 
is  the  drama  of  soul-crises;  it  is  the  drama  that  grips 
the  emotions,  that  compels  the  spectator  in  effect  to 
live  through  the  events  the  dramatist  has  chosen  to 
bring  to  the  stage. 


32  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

The  psychologic  drama  Includes  more  than  the  de- 
velopment that  is  the  second  significant  current  of  the 
new  movement  in  the  theatre.  It  includes  both  the 
drama  of  emotion,  that  exists  entirely  for  emotional 
story-development,  and  the  drama  of  thought,  that 
reaches  through  the  emotions  to  the  intellect.  The 
drama  of  thought  is  the  new  intensive  drama,  that, 
like  the  eesthetic  drama,  is  typically  a  growth  of  the 
current  period  of  progress. 

When  Ibsen,  the  father  of  the  modern  drama  of 
thought,  brought  forth  his  first  compact,  intensive 
social  dramas,  the  western  theatre  had  been  aban- 
doned to  the  shallow  inventions  of  the  Scribe-Sardou 
school  of  playwrights.  The  drama  of  emotion  had 
become  hardly  more  than  a  hollow  shell :  a  cut-and- 
dried  formula  by  which  clever  men  could  put  on  the 
stage  type  characters  and  stock  situations  that  would 
trick  the  audience  into  an  unthinking  emotional  re- 
sponse. Sincerity,  poetry,  thought,  had  gone  out 
of  the  theatre.  It  is  the  achievement  of  the  drama- 
tists of  the  new  movement,  from  the  pioneer  Ibsen 
to  Shaw  and  Galsworthy,  that  the  drama  of  emo- 
tion has  been  made  again  Into  a  thing  of  sincerity, 
touched  with  poetic  beauty,  and  finally  raised  to  a 
drama  of  thought  by  an  added  Intellectual  and  so- 
cial significance.  The  old  dry  form  has  been  made 
over  until  it  yields  a  true  emotional  appeal,  and, 
over  and  above  that,  a  distinct  intellectual  stimulus. 

While  the  drama  of  thought  flowered  first  in  the 


^ 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  33 

Northern  Countries  it  has  been  a  definite  world 
movement,  felt  sooner  or  later  in  England  and  in 
Russia,  in  Japan  and  in  Germany,  in  America,  in 
Italy,  in  France,  in  Spain.  In  Scandinavia  there 
came  and  went  the  wonderful  trio,  Ibsen,  Strindberg 
and  Bjornson;  in  Russia,  for  a  brief  space,  the 
giant  Tolstoy,  and  after  him  Gorky  and  Tchekhoff; 
in  Germany  Hauptmann  and  Sudermann,  and  the 
more  powerful  but  less  temperate  Wedekind;  the 
Italian  Giacosa,  and  the  French  Brieux;  and  finally 
the  most  notable  of  all  contemporary  groups :  the 
Englishmen,  Shaw,  Barker,  Galsworthy,  and  those 
others  who  join  with  them  in  what  is  called  the 
Modern  English  School. 

It  is  with  the  English  School  that  we  may  most] 
profitably  concern  ourselves  here.  For  the  English 
dramatists  are  the  greatest  in  achievement  and  the 
greatest  in  promise  of  all  the  groups  existing  in  the 
dramatic  world  to-day.  In  their  plays,  more  typi- 
cally than  in  any  others,  may  be  traced  the  develop- 
ment and  the  final  perfection  of  the  drama  of  , 
thought.  ~^ 

Just  as  the  English  dramatists  of  the  late  six- 
teenth century  had  to  break  through  the  shackles 
of  a  double  limitation  of  church  heredity  and  a  re- 
vived classicism,  so  the  English  dramatists  of  the 
end  of  the  nineteenth  had  to  struggle  on  the  one 
hand  against  a  prevailing  dry  convention  of  thought, 
and  on  the  other  against  a  cut-and-dried  standard 


34  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  dramatic  entertainment.  They  found  a  pub- 
lic that  was  wilHng  to  look  at  life  only  through  the 
smoked  glasses  of  a  conventional  prudery,  and  they 
faced  in  the  theatre  a  set  standard  of  artificiality, 
that  decreed  a  happy  ending  to  every  play  of  con- 
temporary story,  that  relegated  tragedy  to  historic 
or  purely  fanciful  subjects,  that  bound  the  playwright 
in  unending  and  meaningless  rules  of  mechanical 
marshalling  of  his  actors,  that  ruled  out  everything 
that  was  not  sweet  and  sentimental  and  convention- 
ally correct,  and  that  made  the  setting  a  sort  of  side- 
show, with  all  kinds  of  inartistic  and  distracting 
"naturalistic"  appeals. 

How  the  English  3tage  returned  from  all  that  is 
shallow  and  false  to  an  art  of  which  the  very  life- 
breath  is  sincerity,  is  the  story  of  the  new  English 
dramatists.  Without  imputing  insincerity  to  the  ar- 
tists of  the  sesthetlc  theatre  or  to  any  other  group, 
we  may  fairly  term  the  new  English  group  "The 
School  of  Sincerity"  in  playwrlting.  For  sincerity  is 
the  very  keynote  of  their  art.  Above  all,  their  work 
rings  true.  They  are  u-ue  to  life,  true  to  themselves, 
and  true  to  art. 

In  general  the  drama  of  sincerity  marks  a  return 
from  the  purely  theatrical,  which  strangled  art  in 
the  theatre  for  so  many  decades,  to  the  truly  dra- 
matic. It  is  true  to  life  in  the  sense  of  being  true  to 
the  deeper  motives  of  human  character  and  to  the 
underlying  currents  of  social  development;  not  in 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  35 

the  sense  of  being  photographically  reflective  of 
outer  aspects  and  irrelevant  details.  It  does  not 
strain  to  appear  natural,  and  yet  It  never  is  un- 
natural. The  mirror  is  not  held  up  to  life,  but  life 
is  subjected  to  a  rigid  selective  sense,  and  through 
that  transformed  to  art.  The  new  art  of  the  theatre 
differs  from  the  old  in  depicting  the  inner  spiritual 
forces  that  are  dramatic,  rather  than  the  chance 
happenings  that  are  merely  theatrically  effective. 

The  dramatists  of  thought  do  not  revolt,  on  the 
other  hand,  from  the  way  of  appeal  of  the  old  shal- 
low theatre :  that  is,  they  address  themselves  first 
to  the  emotions.  They  believe  that  the  art  of  the  aes- 
thetic theatre,  with  its  purely  sensuous  appeal,  comes 
perilously  near  to  acting  merely  as  an  anaesthetic. 
They  argue  that  the  art  which  stirs  men's  souls  to 
the  depths,  and  leaves  food  for  afterthought,  is  more 
vital  than  the  art  which  merely  touches  and  lulls 
the  senses.  So  they  deal  in  soul-crises,  aiming  to 
make  the  audience  emotionally  experience  their  own 
and  their  characters'  feelings.  Their  productions 
are  not  "problem  plays"  except  In  the  sense  that 
everything  that  concerns  the  deeper  feelings  of 
thoughtful  people  is  a  problem.  Because  they  are 
true  to  their  own  time,  the  general  spirit  of  their 
plays  Is  humanitarian,  or  even  socialistic  In  the  best 
sense  of  the  word;  but  they  are  never  propagandist. 
They  have  kept  their  viewpoint  as  artists  of  the  thea- 
tre :  so  they  do  not  preach,  but  they  make  the  audi- 


36  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

ence  feel;  they  remember  that  true  art  carries  an 
intellectual  stimulus  only  through  emotional  sugges- 
tion, and  not  by  direct  statement. 

Their  plays  are  Introspective  and  intensive.  In 
technique  they  have  brought  back  a  compactness  of 
form  that  has  not  been  known  since  the  time  of  the 
Greeks.  In  subject  there  are  none  of  the  wide 
reaches  of  material  and  the  broad  sweeps  of  time 
and  place  that  characterized  Ehzabethan  drama. 
Their  whole  art  is  Intimate  and  intensive  rather 
than  Impersonal  and  extensive. 

The  phrase  "literary  drama"  has  been  applied  to 
the  plays  of  the  intensive  dramatists  in  an  attempted 
disparagement.  It  is  really  only  an  added  glory. 
For  no  plays  ever  were  written  more  specifically 
for  the  theatre — or  what  the  theatre  ought  to  be  as 
a  house  of  art  rather  than  of  business — and  with 
greater  regard  for  the  limitations  of  theatre  pro- 
duction. That  Galsworthy's  "Strife,"  and  Mase- 
field's  "Nan,"  and  Houghton's  "HIndle  Wakes," 
make  very  good  reading  matter,  only  shows  that 
the  authors  are  literary  artists  as  well  as  successful 
playwrights;  It  does  not  at  all  show  that  the  plays 
are  unfitted  for  stage  production.  Those  who  saw 
the  unusually  fine  company  which  the  Manchester 
Repertory  Theatre  sent  to  America  recently  in  a 
series  of  plays  by  Galsworthy,  Masefield,  Arnold 
Bennett,  and  Bernard  Shaw,  know  what  keen  and 
purely  dramatic  pleasure  the   dramas  of  the  new 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  37 

movement  afford  when  interpreted  by  an  adequate 
cast  of  players. 

Starting  from  a  "pure  art"  basis,  the  aesthetic  thea- 
tre has  enjoyed  a  certain  isolation,  which  has  allowed 
it  to  develop  with  constant  reference  to  its  ideal 
form.  The  drama  of  thought,  on  the  other  hand,  has 
been  close  to  the  accepted  theatre,  with  a  consequent 
constant  temptation  to  be  influenced  by  old  traditions 
and  commercial  standards.  The  difficult  goal  which 
a  few  of  the  newer  dramatists  have  now  reached, 
doubtless  was  seen  by  many  who  surrendered  along 
the  way.  Their  failures  came  chiefly  in  two  gen- 
eral directions:  first,  in  the  lowering  of  standards 
by  catering  to  popular  taste,  as  exampled  in  the  con- 
scienceless use  of  improbable  happy  endings,  and  in 
the  introduction  of  features  interesting  and  sensa- 
tional in  themselves  but  without  organic  relation  to 
the  total  dramatic  design;  and  second,  in  the  blind 
following  of  schools  and  masters.  A  certain  group 
became  convinced  that  great  art  lay  entirely  in  the 
treatment  of  the  sordid  things  of  life,  and  they  de- 
scended to  the  most  depressing  intellectual  horrors 
in  their  plays.  They  followed  their  master,  but  they 
had  not  his  power  of  so  clothing  an  unpleasant  theme 
with  beauty  and  spiritual  significance  that  its  ulti- 
mate form  was  noble  and  uplifting.  Even  now  the 
dramatists  of  the  new  movement  are  suffering  from 
a  lack  of  the  sense  of  the  nobility  of  life.  They  are 
not  quite  close  enough  to  the  eternal  mysteries  of  the 


38  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

wholesome  human  soul.  They  too  often  chill  with 
a  sense  of  the  futility  of  living,  rather  than  warm 
with  a  sense  of  the  richness  of  life. 

If  one  is  looking  for  the  Shakespeare  or  the  Soph- 
ocles of  the  new  movement,  it  must  be  admitted 
immediately  that  the  time  of  the  great  master  has 
not  yet  come.  The  English  School  has  not  even 
produced  a  leader  who  can  measure  up  to  its  own 
forerunners,  Ibsen  and  Strindberg.  But  it  includes 
several  men  who  are  fairly  comparable  to  Haupt- 
mann  and  Bjornson  and  Brieux  and  the  other  living 
Europeans.  It  is  as  a  group  that  the  school  is  so 
remarkable.  For  here  are  half  a  dozen  men  who 
seem  to  be  young  giants  dramatically,  and  as  many 
more  who  have  produced  one  or  two  plays  of  dis- 
tinctly lasting  quality — and  all  included  in  one  direc- 
tion of  development  in  the  theatre. 

Who,  then,  are  the  notable  dramatists  of  this  sec- 
ond phase  of  the  revolution  in  the  theatre? 

Most  typical,  and  at  the  same  time  richest  in 
promise,  is  John  Galsworthy;  for  he  has  developed 
most  perfectly  the  drama  of  second  meaning,  the 
play  that  at  once  emotionally  purges  and  inspires  to 
thought  and  action;  iij^  "Strife"  and  "The  Silver 
Box"  are  among  the  most  powerful  productions  of 
the  new  movement,  and  "Justice,"  while  less  perfect 
dramatically,  has  proved  the  social  strength  of  the 
new  drama.  Greatest  in  stature,  but  perhaps  least 
dramatic,  is  Bernard  Shaw:  he  is  the  most  original 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  39 

thinker  and  the  most  brilliant  writer  of  the  group; 
but  his  artistic  conscience  is  defective,  and  his  play 
structures  often  are  of  the  outworn  Sardou  mould  or 
cut  to  no  dramatic  pattern  at  all;  he  is  the  intel- 
lectual and  moralistic  giant  of  the  school,  but  he  is 
not  so  great  an  artist  as  half  a  dozen  of  his  fellows. 
After  him  comes  Granville  Barker,  with  some  of  the 
same  faults,  and  with  the  same  virtues  In  less  re- 
markable measure;  his  work  often  seems  a  little 
pale — doubtless  because  it  so  often  is  placed  beside 
Shaw's — but  he  has  an  originality  of  his  own,  and 
must  be  taken  into  account  by  any  serious  historian 
of  the  theatre;  in  "Waste"  and  "The  Voysey  Inherit- 
ance" and  "The  Madras  House"  he  produced  typical 
dramas  of  thought.  J.  M.  Barrie,  turning  from 
literature  to  the  drama,  has  brought  a  new  literary 
distinction  to  the  intensive  drama ;  though  at  first  in- 
dependent of  any  group,  he  lately  has  exhibited 
nearly  all  the  characteristics  of  the  new  school.  John 
Masefield,  though  his  dramatic  work  has  been  very 
limited,  brought  forth  "The  Tragedy  of  Nan,"  that 
Is  as  sincere  a  bit  of  dramatic  writing  as  has  appeared 
In  England.  Only  slightly  less  important  than  these 
are  Arnold  Bennett,  who  never  has  thrown  off  com- 
pletely the  novelist's  diffuseness,  who  doubtless  has 
the  ideals  of  the  dramatists  of  thought  but  has  been 
unable  to  master  their  economy  of  means;  and  the 
late  St.  John  .Hankin,  who  saw  the  light  and  helped 
to  break  the  road  for  the  new  school,  but  had  not 


40  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  power  of  Galsworthy  and  Shaw  and  Barker. 
And  there  are  the  dramatists  of  the  Irish  School,  one 
of  the  most  important  sub-groups  of  the  new  move- 
ment; their  achievement,  from  that  of  the  very  re- 
markable prose-poet  Synge  to  that  of  St.  John  Er- 
vine,  is  a  triumph  of  the  drama  of  sincerity.     And 
in  the  younger  generation  are   Stanley  Houghton, 
whose  "Hindle  Wakes,"  a  play  of  notable  technical 
power,   independence  of  thought,   and  sincerity  of 
treatment,  marked  him  as  a  man  of  great  promise; 
and  Githa  Sowerby,  who  wrote,  in  "Rutherford  and 
Son,"  a  taut  little  drama  that  had  an  Ibsen-like  sim- 
plicity and  straightforwardness;  and  Elizabeth  Ba- 
ker, who  wrote  "Chains,"  a  promising  study  of  com- 
monplace English  life;  and  Cosmo  Hamilton,  who, 
in  "The  Blindness  of  Virtue,"  wrote  a  typical  idea- 
play,  but  sugared  the  theme  a  little  too  sentimentally. 
One  might  go  further  afield,  and  add  Israel  Zang- 
will,  and  Macdonald  Hastings,  and  half  a  dozen 
more,   as  at  least  contributory  to  the   movement. 
Altogether  it  is  a  wonderful  array  for  a  single  time 
and  a  single  place  in  the  history  of  the  theatre. 

V 

It  only  remains  to  say  a  word  about  the  progress 
of  the  new  movement  in  the  United  States.  Unfor- 
tunately a  word  will  suffice,  for  the  American  pro- 
ducer has  been  concerned  with  the  amusement  busi- 
ness rather  than  with  art.     In  the  application  of  the 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  41 

principles  of  the  aesthetic  theatre,  there  has  been 
little  actual  achievement,  though  one  can  call  to  mind 
several  Interesting  experiments :  notably  in  staging  at 
the  Chicago  Little  Theatre,  the  Boston  Toy  Theatre, 
and  the  Boston  Opera  House.  At  least  one  artist  of 
the  theatre,  Livingston  Piatt,  has  passed  the  experi- 
mental stage,  and  directed  productions  of  dignified 
simplicity  and  beauty.  At  the  universities,  too,  there 
have  been  notable  productions  In  the  truest  aesthetic 
theatre  style. 

When  one  considers  the  psychologic  drama  and 
American  playwrights,  one  looks  In  vain  for  men 
to  compare  with  Galsworthy,  Shaw,  Synge  and 
Houghton.  In  writing  the  farce,  and  In  producing 
the  anomalous  "p^^y  with  a  punch,"  there  Is  a  great 
facility  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic;  but  there  Is  little 
of  the  drama  of  sincerity,  that  Is  at  once  powerful 
and  subtle,  perfect  in  technique,  socially  significant, 
and  touched  with  the  magic  of  poetry.  There  are 
poetic  playwrights,  like  the  very  able  Percy  Mac- 
kaye ;  but  they  seem  not  to  make  their  work  dramati- 
cally persuasive,  nor  do  they  reflect  the  life  of  the 
time.  On  the  other  hand  there  are  the  powerful 
writers  like  Eugene  Walter  and  Charles  Klein,  who 
often  are  sincere  In  that  they  depict  life  as  they  see 
it;  but  they  lack  the  sense  of  beauty;  either  they  have 
not  poets'  souls,  or  they  do  not  put  their  souls  In  their 
work.  In  the  recent  American  plays  there  is  a  great 
promise  and  every  condition  Is  ripe  for  Its  fulfillment. 


42  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

The  material  and  the  audience  are  ready  at  hand; 
they  only  await  the  dramatist  who  is  the  perfect  bal- 
ance of  dramatic  craftsman  and  poet.  The  actual 
achievement  is  small,  when  one  judges  by  the 
standard  of  a  Galsworthy;  but  there  are  names  to 
conjure  with  in  all  seriousness:  Mackaye,  Knob- 
lauch, Walter,  Klein,  Augustus  Thomas,  Broadhurst, 
Sheldon,  Kenyon,  Gates. 

In  summary,  one  may  say  that  the  new  movement 
in  America  is  hardly  more  than  a  promise,  but  that 
in  England  and  on  the  Continent  it  is  both  a  promise 
and  a  vital,  lasting  achievement.  The  new  artists 
of  the  theatre  have,  on  the  one  hand,  created  an  aes- 
thetic theatre,  a  new  form  of  artistic  expression 
which  reveals  beauties  heretofore  undreamed  of  in 
connection  with  the  playhouse;  on  the  other  hand, 
they  have  developed  from  the  regular  theatre  the 
new  drama  of  sincerity,  replacing  the  older  theatri- 
cality with  a  form  that  is  truly  dramatic  and  socially 
significant.  Indeed,  there  Is  a  budding  of  dramatic 
activity  without  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  English 
theatre  since  the  early  Elizabethan  period;  it  still  is 
a  question  whether  there  will  follow  the  full  flower 
of  a  second  dramatic  renaissance;  but  there  are  not 
lacking  lovers  of  the  theatre  who  believe  that  there 
will.  At  least  there  is  no  longer  a  condition  of  un- 
troubled stagnation  in  the  theatre;  and  it  will  be  a 
great  many  decades  before  the  drama  again  can  be 
divorced  from  art. 


4'- 


\  ■• 


II 

THE  .ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT 


THE  .ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT 

All  art  Is  a  matter  of  nature  or  life  acted  uponj 
by  man;  a  part  taken  out  of  its  accidental  surround- 1 
ings  and  given  artistic  form.  At  either  side  of  the 
field  of  true  art  is  a  waste  place,  where  art  ceases 
to  have  beauty.  And  the  waste  on  the  one  side  is 
reached  when  the  artist  becomes  so  enamored  of  life 
that  he  forgets  to  interpret,  to  give  artistic  form, 
and  only  brings  forth  a  photographic  image;  while 
the  waste  on  the  other  side  is  reached  when  the  artist 
perfects  his  form  but  forgets  to  put  life  into  it. 

When  the  dreamers  of  the  sesthetic  theatre  first 
stepped  into  the  playhouse,  the  art  of  the  theatre 
had  arrived  at  both  extremes.  The  drama  had  been 
carried  to  the  waste  places  in  both  directions,  to 
a  naturalism,  a  false  sort  of  realism,  that  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  art  or  beauty;  and  to  an  artificial 
form  of  dramatic  structure  that  was  entirely  hollow 
and  lifeless.  For  the  men  of  the  theatre  were  busy, 
on  the  one  hand,  providing  new  thrills  of  wonder- 
ment at  this  or  that  mechanical  imitation  of  nature; 
and,  on  the  other,  pouring  into  a  set  mould  an  unend- 

45j 


46  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

ing  cycle  of  type  figures  and  stock  situations,  as  un- 
like living  beings  and  life  as  the  gas  light  is  unlike 
the  sun. 

The  aesthetic  theatre  movement  is  the  most  revo- 
lutionary of  the  reactions  from  the  condition  of  stag- 
nation that  pervaded  the  theatre  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Reaction,  even  in 
an  institution  so  bound  by  tradition  as  the  theatre, 
was  inevitable  in  the  wave  of  change,  of  human 
progress,  that  swept  the  world  at  the  end  of  the 
century. 

The  first  spirit  of  life  was  breathed  into  the  aes- 
thetic theatre  movement  on  that  day  when  Gordon 
Craig,  after  long  pondering  over  the  strange  things 
that  passed  current  as  the  art  of  the  playhouse,  took 
down  his  dictionary  and  sought  out  the  word  "thea- 
[  tre" — and  discovered  that  originally  it  meant  merely 
"a  place  for  seeing."     Until  one  has  some  faint 
glimmering  of  the  visions  he  must  have  had  that 
day,  of  the  ultimate  glorious  possibilities  of  a  purely 
\^  visual  art  of  the  theatre,  one  cannot  hope  to  under-  j 
stand  the  assthetic  theatre  movement.     In  the  light  j 
of  his  new  vision,  Gordon  Craig  re-interpreted  the  J 
word  ''action"  that  appeared  in  every  definition  ofi 
theatre    and    drama:    for    if    the    word    "theatre"! 
stresses  seeing  as  the  way  of  receiving  the  artistic;' 
impression,  then  the  action  that  is  the  essence  of  the 
art  must  be  of  a  sort  visually  effective;  that  is,  seei 
able  action,  or  movement;  and  not  action  in  the  sense 


.ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     47 

of  mere  story-development  or  theme-development. 
Phis  Interpretation  of  action  as  movement  holds 
the  key  to  the  understanding  of  the  whole  develop- 
ment of  the  aesthetic  theatre.  For  all  the  forms  of 
aesthetic  drama,  the  creations  alike  of  Gordon  Craig 
and  Max  Reinhardt  and  Leon  Bakst,  are  character- 
istically visual  in  appeal.  While  Ibsen  and  Pinero 
and  Galsworthy,  and  their  fellow  dramatists  of  the 
accepted  theatre,  have  been  rearing  a  very  vital  form 
of  art  upon  the  foundation  of  the  old  interpretation 
of  action,  as  meaning  merely  something  accom- 
plished, or  developed,  without  regard  to  beauty  of 
physical  movement,  their  art  may  be  said  to  be  typi- 
cally dramatic  and  only  incidentally  and  in  small 
measure  theatric;  whereas  the  aesthetic  drama  is  only 
incidentally  dramatic,  since  the  story-development 
and  theme-development  are  subordinated  to  visual 
effectiveness,  and  is  very  typically  theatric.  Indeed, 
Gordon  Craig  is  right  when  he  claims  that  the  new 
aesthetic  drama  is  the  truest  art  of  the  theatre;  and 
the  unthinking  critics  who  so  impatiently  try  to  wave 
him  aside  as  mad  must  reconsider  their  ground;  for 
all  that  they  really  can  claim  is  that  the  new  art  is 
not  the  truest  art  of  drama. 

The  new  conception  of  the  nature  of  action  led  to 
the  creation  of  an  art  that  is  different  in  appeal  from 
any  the  theatre  heretofore  has  known.  For  that 
which  appeals  primarily  to  the  eye  clearly  is  sensu- 
ous; and  the  older  theatre  always  appealed  primarily 


48  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

to  the  emotions,  or  at  its  best  to  the  emotions  and 
intellect,  the  outward  decorative  appeal  to  the  senses 
being  entirely  subordinated.  The  older  drama  is 
comparable  to  that  sort  of  painting  in  which  sub- 
ject-interest or  idea-interest  dominates;  the  aesthetic 
drama  is  comparable  to  the  Japanese  color-print  and 
the  paintings  of  Whistler,  where  there  is  a  purely 
sensuous  appeal  of  beautiful  arrangement  of  line  and 
mass  and  color.  The  new  drama  is  a  thing  of  physi- 
cal beauty,  compounded  of  decorative  movement, 
color  and  light.  In  its  purest  form  it  has  the  effect 
of  a  gorgeous  fluctuating  pattern,  entrancing  the  eye 
and  beguiling  the  mind  and  emotions  to  a  dreamy 
forgetfulness.  It  is  the  art  of  the  theatre  that  is 
most  purely  aesthetic;  it  is  conventional,  imaginative, 
impressionistic. 

Of  the  two  great  developments  in  the  modern 
*theatre,  one — the  intensive  social  drama,  the  drama 
of  thought — took  root  and  flowered  in  the  work  of 
one  man,  Henrik  Ibsen;  but  the  other,  the  aesthetic 
drama,  had  first  its  prophet  and  then  its  practitioners. 
Only  by  studying  together  the  principles  of  Gordon 
Craig  and  the  practice  of  Max  Reinhardt  can  one 
learn  the  best  that  there  is  in  the  aesthetic  theatre. 
For  Craig  is  primarily  the  creator  and  seer,  Rein- 
hardt the  practitioner;  Craig  the  thinker,  Reinhardt 
the  doer. 

Gordon  Craig's  first  diagnosis  of  the  theatre's 
trouble  was  that  there  were  no  true  artists  of  the 


J8"  V 


flTXa  aDAJAI  5¥i 


.  U:.siU'  V 


THE  PALACE  EXTERIOR  IN  "sUMURUn" 

1>lay,   produced   by    Max   Reinhardt, 
-"  flaty  perspectiveless  backgrounds, 
■sly  costumed  figures  stood  07it 
'v.     Look  at  the  scene  for  a 
^"'mjust  where  it  belongs 
the  other  Oriefital 
^azes  of  columns 
*he  glittering 
^-  sky,  and 
"ground. 
'  rest- 
"t>ose 


ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT    49 

theatre,  no  men  who  understood  every  detail  of 
creation  from  the  playwriting  to  the  costuming  and 
lighting — and  consequently  there  was  no  unity  of 
structure  in  the  average  production,  and  no  harmony 
of  effect.  In  order  to  avoid  the  usual  scattered  effect, 
he  argued,  there  must  be  one  all-seeing  and  all- 
powerful  director.  This  artist  must  conceive  the 
production  as  a  whole,  and  conceive  it  according  to 
the  true  principles  of  theatre  art;  he  must  write  the 
play  or  scenario,  design  the  setting  and  costumes,  and 
direct  the  movement  of  the  figures  on  the  stage. 

Working  from  this  conception  of  the  complete 
production  as  a  single  art  (playwriting,  and  scene 
painting,  and  costume  designing  existing  individually 
as  only  provisional  or  incomplete  art),  and  from  the 
idea  of  one  director  having  absolute  control,  Gordon 
Craig  progressed  logically  to  the  form  of  aesthetic 
drama  that  is  his  particular  contribution  to  the  prac- 
tical part  of  the  movement;  the  drama  of  the  super-  L 
marionette.  The  artist  of  the  theatre,  he  argued, 
can  write  the  play  and  design  the  scenery  and  cos- 
tumes, but  he  cannot  take  the  place  of  the  actors;  and 
yet  living  actors,  with  wills  and  temperaments  of 
their  own,  never  can  pass  completely  under  the  domi- 
nance of  the  director:  he  never  can  control  their 
every  impulse  and  their  every  movement;  and  since 
he  must  have  only  the  materials  that  are  absolutely 
responsive,  he  must  work  with  marionettes,  that 
never  will  move,  or  bow  to  the  audience,  or  blow 


50  \hE  new  movement 

their  noses,  without  the  authority  of  the  master- 
artist.  Automatically  the  substitution  of  the  wooden 
figures  for  actors  transformed  the  new  form  to  a 
drama  of  silence.  Never  mind ! — Gordon  Craig  said 
— for  then  it  will  be  a  more  typical  art  of  the  thea- 
tre, since  there  will  be  no  words  and  no  literary  in- 
terest to  interfere  with  the  decorative  appeal  to  the 
eye.  This  is  not  the  place  to  debate  the  fallacy  of 
the  argument  as  applying  to  any  all-embracing  theory 
of  the  theatre;  and  for  the  moment  we  may  well  be 
content  to  admit  that  this  silent,  dehumanized  drama 
is  characterized  more  than  any  other  by  the  "noble 
artificiality"  that  Craig  and  many  others  attribute 
to  the  highest  forms  of  art. 

When  Gordon  Craig  turned  to  the  marionettes,  he 
found  that  the  art  of  the  puppet  theatre  had  degen- 
erated to  a  sort  of  circus  entertainment;  the  jerky 
Punch-and-Judy  shows,  with  their  exaggerated 
stories  and  slap-stick  humor,  were  almost  all  that 
remained  of  a  department  of  the  theatre  that  once 
had  been  a  much-loved  and  dignified  source  of  plea- 
sure. Craig  dreamed  of  the  rejuvenation  of  the  mar- 
ionette drama  in  accordance  with  the  new  concep- 
tion of  a  typically  visual  art  of  the  theatre.  Gradu- 
ally he  and  his  followers  developed  the  super- 
marionette,  by  adding  a  new  beauty  and  a  more  per- 
fect responsiveness  to  the  old  types.  And  while  per- 
fecting the  wooden  figures  they  brought  out  new 
beauties  in  the  backgrounds  or  settings  and  in  the 


.ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     51 

lighting.  The  resultant  art-form,  which  makes  its 
appeal  primarily  through  the  decorative  movement 
of  richly  dressed  puppets  in  suggestive  settings  amid 
changing  lights  is  the  super-marionette  drama,  that 
recently  has  brought  about  the  crossing  of  swords 
among  so  many  dramatic  critics  and  artists. 

Before  judging  this  development  of  the  aesthetic 
theatre,  the  average  American  must  rid  himself  of  a 
false  conception  of  the  marionette,  gained  from 
the  degraded  descendants  of  the  true  type  that  are 
the  only  examples  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is 
difficult  for  him  to  realize  what  a  large  place  the 
toy  theatre  holds  in  the  affections  of  the  German 
child;  and  that  throughout  Europe  men  and  women 
often  find  the  better  puppet-shows  a  source  of  pleas- 
ure quite  comparable  with  the  regular  theatre.  Such 
discerning  writers  as  Arthur  Symons  and  Anatole 
France  and  Maurice  Maeterlinck  have  attested  to 
the  exquisite  pleasure  they  have  derived  from  the 
drama  of  wooden  figures.  In  the  past  two  or  three 
years  there  has  been  a  remarkable  revival  of  inter- 
est in  marionettes,  due  primarily  to  the  Craig  experi- 
ments, and  Innumerable  puppet  theatres  have  sprung 
up  throughout  Europe.  Amateurs  and  professionals 
alike  are  proving  the  beauty  of  the  new  art  form, 
from  the  mere  dilettante  to  the  directors  of  commer- 
cial marionette  theatres.  One  of  the  best  known  of 
the  European  puppet  theatres  is  the  "Marionetten- 
Theater  Miinchner  Kiinstler,"  which  is  about  the 


52  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

size  of  the  Little  Theatre  in  New  York.  The  build- 
ing is  designed  exclusively  for  marionette  produc- 
tions, and  performances  are  given  every  night  dur- 
ing the  regular  dramatic  season.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  that  Clayton  Hamilton,  one  of  the  most  intel- 
ligent of  American  dramatic  critics — who,  however, 
in  19 1 2  had  characterized  Gordon  Craig's  ideas  as 
clearly  "mad" — visited  the  Munich  Marionette  thea- 
tre in  19 13,  and  testified  that  he  became  so  absorbed 
in  the  production  that  he  "lost  all  sense  of  the  pup- 
pets as  puppets."  The  acting  he  described  as  "less 
wooden  than  that  of  many  of  our  so-called  artists." 
And  he  added,  wisely :  "This  may  lead  us  to  wonder 
whether  Mr.  Gordon  Craig  was  quite  as  insane  as 
many  people  thought  him  when  he  suggested  that 
the  drama  of  the  future  should  be  presented  not  by 
the  ordinary  human  actor  but  by  a  sort  of  super- 
puppet  that  he  called  by  the  barbarous  name  of 
Uber-Marionette.  .  .  .  Certain  it  is  that  such  well- 
endowed  puppets  as  those  of  the  miniature  theatre 
in  Munich  are  less  likely  to  obscure  the  original  in- 
tention of  an  author  than  such  crude  and  bungling 
actors  as  we  often  meet  with  in  our  theatres." 

The  puppet  theatre  is  not  the  most  important  de- 
velopment of  the  cEsthetic  drama  movement;  nor  is  it 
the  most  valuable  phase  of  Gordon  Craig's  service 
to  the  theatre.  For  while  perfecting  the  marionette 
drama,  he  solved  certain  problems  that  pertain  to  all 
theatre  production,  and  he  promulgated  those  pria- 


.ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     53 

ciples  that  underlie  the  whole  ^esthetic  movement. 
The  new  conception  of  the  value  of  movement,  and 
the  new  conception  of  unity  of  structure  and  har- 
mony of  impression,  are  the  very  heart  and  soul  of 
all  the  forms  of  aesthetic  drama;  and  the  principles 
of  decorative  beauty  and  unobtrusiveness,  of  simplic- 
ity and  concentration  and  suggestion,  in  stage  setting, 
apply  to  almost  every  production  in  any  department 
of  the  theatre.  It  is  from  this  part  of  Craig's  work 
rather  than  from  his  actual  achievement  with  the 
marionettes,  that  the  great  aesthetic  advance  has  fol- 
lowed. While  Craig  has  shown  in  scattered  produc- 
tions that  his  practical  work  includes  more  than  the 
marionette  drama,  he  remains  in  other  directions  the 
great  theorist  and  only  the  partially  effective  practi- 
tioner; and  when  we  turn  to  the  second  development 
of  the  cEsthetic  theatre,  the  mimo-drama  of  living 
actors,  it  is  in  Max  Reinhardt's  rather  than  Craig's 
work  that  we  shall  find  its  most  typical  expression. 

"Mimo-drama"  is  a  term  which  properly  applies 
to  all  silent  forms  of  drama;  but  in  its  latter-day 
usje  it  has  been  narrowed  so  that  it  seldom  is  meant 
to  include  the  marionette  drama,  but  only  those 
wordless  plays  whose  stories  are  worked  out  by  flesh- 
and-blood  actors.  It  is  the  drama  that  appeals  to  the 
senses  by  visual  beauty  of  line  and  mass  and  color, 
and  chiefly  of  moving  human  figures;  that  unrolls  be- 
fore the  eye  a  kaleidoscopic  decoration,  a  fluctuating 
pattern  of  sinuous  body  lines  and  gorgeous  costume 


54  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

colors  before  a  background  designed  suggestively  to 
heighten  the  pervading  mood. 

Max  Relnhardt  brought  the  mimo-drama  to  Its 
most  effective  proportions  in  "Sumurun"  and  "The 
Miracle."  In  examining  the  sensational  qualities  of 
these  two  productions,  one  wonders  whether  Gordon 
Craig's  failure  to  perfect  the  mimo-drama  was  due 
so  much  to  lack  of  practical  initiative  as  to  an  In- 
herent disparity  between  the  wordless  drama  form 
and  the  ideal  he  had  in  mind.  For  Craig  is  the  poet 
at  heart,  Instinctively  shrinking  from  what  is  sensa- 
tional or  bizarre,  and  aiming  to  appeal  quietly  to 
the  senses,  and  through  them  to  some  spiritual  fac- 
ulty which  he  Insists  is  Independent  of  the  emotions 
and  Intellect,  but  is  equally  deep;  whereas  the  mimo- 
drama,  deprived  of  the  appeal  of  subtleties  of 
thought,  that  can  be  brought  out  only  In  dialogue, 
tends  naturally  to  primitive  stories  worked  out  in 
violent  action,  with  the  accompaniment  of  brilliant 
color,  massive  grouping  and  impassioned  dancing. 
Relnhardt  is  not  at  all  the  poet,  seeking  to  purvey 
quietly  sensuous  and  delicately  spiritual  adventures. 
He  desires  nothing  better  than  to  overwhelm  the 
senses  and  thrill  the  surface  emotions,  and  the  new 
form  came  to  him  perfectly  adapted  to  his  talents. 
With  his  genius  for  organization  he  gathered  about 
him  a  group  of  artists  who  were  not  hopelessly 
soaked  In  the  traditions  of  the  existing  theatre,  and 


ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     55 

together  they  evolved  "Sumurun,"  "The  Miracle," 
and  other  revolutionary  productions. 

"Sumurun"  may  be  taken  as  a  typical  example  of 
the  mimo-drama.  The  production  worked  out  an 
Arabian  Nights  story  in  pantomime,  a  tale  heavy 
with  the  passion  of  the  East,  wherein  there  is  the 
double  thread  of  the  love-story  of  Nur-al-Din,  a 
young  cloth-merchant,  and  Sumurun,  the  favorite 
wife  of  the  old  Sheik,  and  that  of  the  young  Sheik 
and  the  Beautiful  Slave  of  Fatal  Enchantment.  The 
two  motives  are  intertwined  in  a  meshwork  of  love 
and  hate,  of  jealousy  and  revenge,  of  lust  and  mur- 
der— but  after  all  the  story  is  chiefly  a  framework 
on  which  to  build  scene  after  scene  of  Oriental  pag- 
eantry, of  moving  pattern  of  costume  and  setting,  of 
passionate  dancing. 

"Sumurun"  is  typical  of  the  aesthetic  drama  in 
three  ways:  first,  in  the  totality  of  conception,  the 
fidelity  to  a  single  mood  of  exotic  richness;  the  play 
is  not  conceived  in  one  mood,  the  setting  in  another, 
the  lighting  in  another;  line  and  mass  blend  with 
color,  color  with  lighting,  lighting  with  music,  and 
music  with  story,  the  whole  affording  a  single  sensu- 
ous impression;  second,  in  the  emphasis  upon  the  way 
in  which  the  thing  is  done  rather  than  upon  what  is 
done:  there  is  little  interest  in  the  moral  and  little 
in  the  story-growth,  but  a  continuous  enchantment  of 
the  senses  by  decorative  beauty  of  movement,  danc- 
ing, and  background  pattern;  it  is  clearly  a  visually 


56  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

effective  rather  than  a  psychologically  moving  drama; 
and  third,  in  the  setting:  for  here  are  simple,  neu- 
trally-toned backgrounds,  that  never  distract  the  eye 
from  the  figures  on  the  stage,  that  suggest  the  per- 
vading mood  subtly,  creating  an  Oriental  atmos- 
phere with  the  slightest  of  means:  sometimes  with 
mere  hanging  curtains,  and  again  with  a  flat  wall, 
neutral  in  tone,  against  which  the  gorgeously  cos- 
tumed actors  stand  out  in  flaming  contrast. 

Professor  Reinhardt's  other  notable  mimo-drama, 
"The  Miracle,"  based  upon  the  legend  which  Mae- 
terlinck treated  poetically  in  his  "Sister  Beatrice," 
was  less  violent  and  less  sensual  than  "Sumurun,"  but 
in  spots  no  less  sensational.  It  was  no  less  typical 
aesthetic  drama,  with  its  purely  visual  appeal  and  its 
wide  sweeps  of  pageantry.  But  when  one  turns  to 
Reinhardt's  other  work,  to  such  notable  productions 
as  the  "CEdipus  Rex"  and  the  Shakespearean  plays, 
one  leaves  the  mimo-drama  and  steps  almost  entirely 
from  the  field  of  the  aesthetic  play.  For  these  are 
works  that  generally  are  classed  as  intellectual  or 
emotional  drama — and  yet  the  producer  has  so 
changed  them  that  the  literary  or  story  element  is 
almost  if  not  entirely  subordinated  to  the  visually 
decorative  elements.  He  cuts  the  dialogue,  rear- 
ranges the  scenes,  and  otherwise  distorts  the  original, 
until  he  has  the  material  in  the  form  that  is  theatri- 
cally most  effective.  The  result  is  psychologic  drama 
staged  aesthetically.    The  process  really  amounts  to 


iESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     57 

the  "re-theatrallzing"  of  plays  that  had  been  con- 
sidered as  chiefly  literary,  and  therefore  had  been 
staged  with  entire  negligence  of  the  more  theatric 
elements.  Gordon  Craig  makes  a  clear  distinction 
between  his  work  that  is  typically  theatric,  consist- 
ing of  the  creation  of  marionette  productions  and 
mimo-dramas,  and  his  interpretative  work  in  stag- 
ing literary  plays,  considering  the  latter  merely  the 
fitting  of  another  art  into  a  setting  in  the  theatre  and 
refraining  from  change.  But  Reinhardt  brings  every 
creative  faculty  to  bear  on  the  chosen  play,  ruthlessly 
cutting,  shifting,  adding.  The  method  is  a  worthy 
one,  if  the  director  is  an  artist;  and  certain  of  the 
Reinhardt  productions  have  brought  a  new  breath 
of  life  to  the  shelf-plays  so  treated.  And  elsewhere, 
in  more  sensitive  hands,  new  beauties  have  been 
brought  into  productions  that  before  had  been  only 
partially  effective  without  the  full  visual  appeal. 
Thus  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre's  production  of  "The 
Blue  Bird"  afforded  a  pleasure  that  was  only  half 
realized  from  the  English  and  American  productions 
— even  though  the  latter  were  above  the  average  in 
their  respective  countries.  The  Russians  saturated 
the  several  settings  with  the  symbolism  that  underlies 
the  play,  thus  making  fuller  and  richer  its  poetic 
charm,  and  they  added  decorative  outer  appeal. 
This  way  of  theatralizing  the  drama,  of  enriching 
the  playwright's  work  by  passing  the  production 
through  the  mind  of  a  creative  artist-director,  who 


58  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

conceives  every  detail  of  setting  and  staging  in  the 
true  spirit  of  the  original,  is  being  put  into  practice 
in  Moscow  by  Constantin  Stanislavsky,  in  Paris  by 
Jacques  Rouche,  in  Budapest  by  Alexander  Hevesi, 
and  in  a  dozen  German  theatres  by  such  men  as 
Georg  Fuchs,  Ottomar  Starke,  and  Professor  Rein- 
hardt.  It  is  a  phase  of  progress  in  the  theatre  that 
is  less  a  distinct  new  form  of  aesthetic  drama  than 
a  pervading  influence  throughout  every  department 
of  activity  of  the  theatre.  The  movement  marks 
the  carrying  out  to  all  other  dramatic  forms  of  the 
underlying  principles  of  unity,  concentration,  and 
suggestion  that  are  so  characteristic  of  the  aesthetic 
theatre. 

Before  leaving  Reinhardt  and  the  mimo-drama,  to 
turn  to  the  third  definite  development  of  the  aesthetic 
drama,  let  us  see  what  is  the  total  importance  of 
Reinhardt's  service  to  the  theatre.  In  the  first  place 
he  brought  the  mimo-drama  to  proportions  commer- 
cially valuable,  and  by  so  doing  gave  theatregoers 
of  many  countries  the  opportunity  to  see  at  least 
one  form  of  the  new  aesthetic  drama  actually  pro- 
duced. Moreover  he  gave  greater  impetus  than  any 
other  one  man  to  the  movement  that  Craig  had 
started  away  from  the  old  inartistic  naturalism  in 
setting  and  toward  suggestive  and  decorative  stag- 
ing. He  is  a  man  of  prodigious  energy,  with  a  genius 
for  organization,  and  the  range  of  his  productions 
has  been  remarkably  wide.     But  he  has  worked  too 


THE  ADORATION  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS 

This  is  a  scene  from  a  Christmas  play  produced  hy 
the  Lessing  Society  of  Hamburgh  under  the  direction  of 
Emanuel  St.ockhausen.  The  simple  hangings  create  the 
atmosphere  of  a  starry  flight  more  successfully  than  could 
the  most  labored  efforts  of  the  naturalistic  stage  designer, 
with  his  real  twinkling  stars,  and  painted  sky,  and  rising 
moons.  The  picture  also  illustrates  the  way  in  which 
masses  of  light  and  shade  are  made  to  contribute  to  the 
decorative  effect. 

{By  courtesy  of  Emanuel  Stockhausen.) 


^ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     59 

fast  to  be  the  deep  thinker  and  original  creator  that 
Craig  is.  Indeed,  neither  of  these  two  men  Is  to  be 
considered  the  perfect  artist  of  the  aesthetic  theatre. 
What  certain  of  Craig's  over-loyal  friends  cannot 
see  is  that  in  these  pioneer  days  of  the  new  art  we 
need  both  men,  the  one  complementing  the  other — 
the  bold  thinker  and  the  bold  practitioner.  Rein- 
hardt  is  not  Craig's  ideal  artist  of  the  theatre,  be- 
cause the  director's  Is  not  the  creative  hand  through- 
out; his  scenario  or  play  is  by  one  hand,  the  music 
by  another,  the  settings  and  costumes  by  another, 
and  the  final  staging  by  still  another;  so  Reinhardt 
is  more  the  orchestra  leader  who  attempts  to  draw 
out  from  his  helpers  what  a  master  Intended,  than 
the  monumental  sculptor  who  makes  his  own  model 
and  then  works  personally  with  his  helpers  in  chisel- 
ling out  the  final  form.  Moreover  he  has  that  ten- 
dency toward  sensationalism  which  has  buried  the 
spiritual  qualities  of  his  art  under  a  pursuit  of  physi-* 
cal  excitement.  Nevertheless  he  is  one  of  the  two 
great  figures  of  the  first  decade  of  the  aesthetic  thea- 
tre's history;  and  he  as  much  as  Craig  has  paved 
the  way  for  those  artists  of  the  future  who  doubtless 
will  have  the  virtues  of  both  and  the  faults  of 
neither. 

The  third  notable  form  of  aesthetic  drama,  the 
Russian  Ballet,  recently  blazed  its  way  across  the 
dramatic  horizon  In  a  path  of  glory  that  temporarily 
dimmed  every  other  form.     The  new  dance-drama, 


6o  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

that  so  far  exists  almost  entirely  in  the  achievement 
of  the  Russians,  is  less  true  an  art  of  the  theatre 
than  the  marionette  drama  or  the  mimo-drama,  since 
it  combines  dancing,  which  often  is  considered  an 
art  in  itself,  and  music,  with  the  more  typical  theatric 
elements.  It  is  the  art  of  the  perfect  combination  of 
color  and  line  and  movement  and  music  in  one 
harmonious  appeal  to  eye  and  ear.  / 

There  are  three  easily  distinguishable  sources  of 
this  sort  of  aesthetic  drama.  In  the  first  place  there 
is  the  old-time  ballet,  a  form  of  dancing  which  was 
carefully  nurtured  under  royal  protection  in  Russia 
while  it  was  dying  a  slow  death  throughout  the  rest 
of  the  world.  Second,  there  was  the  revival  of 
classic  and  aesthetic  dancing  that  spread  over  Europe 
and  America,  and  brought  a  new  significance  to  the 
phrase  "poetry  of  motion."  And  third,  there  came 
the  Craig  impulse  to  decorative  staging.  Gathering 
up  the  three  elements  and  interweaving  them  with 
mutual  enrichment,  a  group  of  Russian  artists 
evolved  the  alluring  dance-drama  of  to-day. 

A  story — does  anyone  ever  remember  what  it  was 
about  after  it  is  gone? — is  unfolded  in  pantomime 
and  dance,  with  a  continuous  moving  pattern  of  shift- 
ing figures  and  group  or  solo  dancing,  before  settings 
that  are  not,  indeed,  unobtrusive,  but  that  take  up 
the  mood  of  the  production  and  fling  it  back  from 
every  line  and  color;  and  through  it  all  is  the  insin- 
uating accompaniment  of  sympathetic  music.     Here 


ESTHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     6i 

is  no  art  of  dancing  merely  set  in  the  theatre,  with 
passable  background,  and  a  bit  of  music  to  tickle 
the  ear.  Rather  do  human  figures  and  colors  and 
lines  and  musical  notes  dance  together  in  a  dreamy 
ecstasy  of  harmony  and  rhythm,  lulling  our  minds  to 
sleep  and  intoxicating  our  senses.  Colorful  music 
and  singing  color  set  the  mood  for  sensuous  dances. 
And  who  can  say  that  it  is  more  the  dancing  of  the 
ethereal  Pavlowa,  or  the  settings  and  costumes  of  a 
Bakst,  or  the  music,  that  most  certainly  takes  us  out 
of  earthly  things?  It  is  indeed  the  perfect  combina- 
tion of  movement  and  decoration  and  music,  the  syn- 
thesis of  all  sensuous  appeals,  that  so  completely 
masters  the  audience. 

This  difference  is  notable  between  the  Russian  bal- 
let and  those  other  forms  of  aesthetic  drama  which 
Gordon  Craig  and  Max  Reinhardt  have  devoloped: 
that  whereas  they  conceive  the  production  as  a  fluc- 
tuating pattern  against  a  neutral  background,  the 
Russians  count  the  setting  quite  as  compelling  mate- 
rial as  the  movement  in  gaining  artistic  effect.  "It  is 
the  day  of  the  painter  in  the  theatre,"  exclaims  Leon 
Bakst  exultantly.  And  he  proceeds  to  design  his 
gorgeous  settings  "like  paintings  into  which  the  fig- 
ures have  not  yet  been  painted" ;  and  then  to  marshal 
masses  of  gorgeously  robed  figures  in  those  settings 
with  all  the  cunning  of  the  master  of  decorative  com- 
position. It  is  the  painter  who  sets  the  mood  of 
the  production  as  much  as  the  writer  of  the  scenario  j 


62  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

and  the  setting  amplifies  the  appeal  of  every  move- 
ment of  the  dancers.  In  commenting  upon  the  posi- 
tive dramatic  value  of  the  setting,  M.  Peladan,  a 
French  critic,  notes  that  in  the  production  of  "Sche- 
herazade," a  tale  of  illicit  love  and  lust  and  cruel 
revenge  in  an  Oriental  harem,  there  was  nowhere  a 
bit  of  white  in  the  decoration  or  costumes;  for  white 
is  the  color  of  Innocence,  and  here  there  was  room 
only  for  the  greens,  the  blues,  the  oranges,  the  reds, 
the  sensuous  colors  that  furthered  the  sensual  ap- 
peal; that  built  up  a  flaming  riot  of  color  to  bear 
in  upon  the  senses  with  an  insinuating  pleading  paral- 
lel to  that  of  the  dancing  and  music. 

If  Gordon  Craig  is  the  poet  of  the  sesthetic  thea- 
tre, striving  to  enchant  the  senses  and  the  imagina- 
tion, and  Max  Reinhardt  the  theatre  showman,  alm- 
!,  ing  to  overwhelm  the  senses  and  thrill  the  surface 
emotions,  Leon  Bak;st  is  the  Orientalist  ravishing  the 
eye  with  a  primitive  pagan  appeal.  He  is  the  great- 
est of  the  artist-designers  of  the  Russian  ballet; 
his  sketches  for  costumes  and  settings  mark  him  as 
one  of  the  finest  colorists  of  contemporary  graphic 
art,  and  the  dance-dramas  he  has  staged  earn  him  a 
place  above  his  fellows  of  the  theatre.  And  yet 
there  are  others  of  these  Russians  who  are  doing  big 
things  for  the  aesthetic  theatre;  among  the  designers, 
Benois,  Roerich,  Anisfeld,  and  Golovine;  and  the 
directors,  Diaghelew  and  Foklne. 

To  say,  as  have  many  Impetuous  critics,  that  here 


i^STHETIC  THEATRE  MOVEMENT     63 

at  last  is  the  great  art  of  the  theatre,  that  the  Russian 
Ballet  will  dominate  the  theatre  of  the  future,  is 
nonsense.  The  dance-drama  is  gorgeous  entertain- 
ment, and  it  affords  an  artistic  experience  that  is 
sweet  and  new.  But  when  we  have  recovered  from 
the  first  intoxication  of  it  we  shall  see  that  there 
are  soberer  and  deeper  phases  of  drama  that  are 
not  so  easily  to  be  brushed  from  their  places  in  the 
affections  of  mankind;  we  shall  continue  to  enjoy 
the  old  and  more  nourishing-  fare,  and  when  the 
chance  comes  to  indulge  in  this,  the  champagne  of 
the  theatre,  as  it  were,  we  shall  welcome  the  rare 
treat  joyously  but  moderately. 

And  that  is  in  some  measure  the  attitude  in  which 
we  should  accept  all  the  forms  of  aesthetic  drama 
that  have  been  described:  not  alone  the  Russian 
Ballet,  but  the  mimo-dramas  and  marionette  plays. 
While  preserving  our  allegiance  to  the  dramas  of 
emotion  and  thought  which  certainly  are  as  vital 
expressions  of  dramatic  art  as  any  of  the  new  forms, 
we  yet  may  welcome  the  creations  of  Craig  and 
Reinhardt  and  Bakst  as  bringing  a  new  and  very 
refreshing  sort  of  beauty  into  the  playhouse.  We 
must  recognize,  too,  that  they  have  revitalized  the 
older  sorts  of  drama,  and  have  brought  out  in  them 
unsuspected  decorative  qualities.  They  have  made 
over  the  art  of  drama  until  it  again  is  fit  to  ap- 
pear in  the  theatre;  and  they  have  splendidly 
widened  its  scope. 


Ill 

THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS 

Of  the  several  dramatic  "schools"  of  modern 
times  the  English  to-day  is  emerging  as  the  most 
vital  and  most  lastingly  significant.  Of  the  other 
movements,  that  Northern  one  which  flowered  so 
beautifully,  and  yet  in  some  ways  so  forbiddingly, 
in  the  art  of  Ibsen,  Strindberg,  and  Bjornson,  alone 
equals  the  English  in  importance.  There  was  a  time 
when  the  achievement  of  Hauptmann  and  Suder- 
mann,  and  the  promise  of  Wedekind  and  the  younger 
Germans,  seemed  to  foreshadow  a  great  modern 
dramatic  school  in  Germany;  but  now  the  pioneers 
seem  to  be  written  out,  and  the  Viennese  Schnitzler 
alone  from  the  German-speaking  countries  is  inter- 
nationally important.  But  in  spite  of  all  his  grace 
and  charming  lightness  of  touch,  his  insidious  cyni- 
cisms and  refinements  of  sensuality  mark  him  as  the 
last  flickering  rather  than  the  first  fire  of  a  new  de- 
velopment. And  certainly  in  France,  where  the  three 
really  notable  dramatists  are  so  widely  separated  in 
ideals  and  in  methods  as  Maeterlinck,  Rostand  and 
Brieux,  there  is  nothing  approaching  a  school.    Mae- 

67 


68  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

« 

terlinck  Is  a  law  unto  himself,  and  Rostand  is  hardly 
less  independent  of  his  contemporaries;  and  certainly 
Brieux  has  more  in  common  with  Shaw  and  Gals- 
worthy than  with  any  living  Frenchman. 

The  England  that  gave  birth  to  Gordon  Craig, 
the  pioneer  of  the  aesthetic  theatre  movement,  and 
then  cast  out  that  genius  and  closed  its  theatres  to  the 
2esthetic  drama,  opened  its  arms  wide  to  that  other 
new  form,  the  drama  of  thought,  that  had  its  birth 
and  came  to  its  first  perfection  in  foreign  lands;  so 
that  to-day,  while  the  aesthetic  theatre  is  typically 
a  Continental  art,  the  new  intensive  drama  is  flower- 
ing in  England  more  beautifully  than  in  any  other 
country.  Indeed,  in  the  theatre  of  thought,  the  Eng- 
lish school,  as  a  group,  is  by  every  test  the  greatest 
in  achievement  and  the  greatest  in  promise  in  the 
world  to-day.  Though  it  is  only  in  the  imperfect 
beginnings  of  its  development — though  it  seems  to 
foreshadow  greater  glories  to  come — it  already 
forces  recognition  not  only  as  the  most  significant 
English  flowering  since  Elizabethan  days,  but  as  one 
of  the  two  very  great  developments  in  modern  dra- 
matic history. 

The  fact  that  three  dramatists  of  the  brilliancy 
and  solid  worth  of  Bernard  Shaw,  John  Galsworthy 
and  J.  M.  Barrie  are  writing  contemporaneously 
would  make  the  time  a  notable  one  dramatically. 
And  when  one  adds  to  their  achievement  that  of  J. 
M.  Synge  and  St.  John  Hankin,  whose  work  is  ended, 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    69 

and  remembers  that  John  Masefield,  Granville  Bar- 
ker and  Arnold  Bennett  still  are  working  toward  the 
same  ideals,  the  day  seems  rich  indeed.  And  very 
recently  a  newer  and  younger  group  have  started 
the  impetus  anew:  Stanley  Houghton,  and  Elizabeth 
Baker,  and  Githa  Sowerby.  As  many  more  might  be 
named  as  probable  important  dramatists  of  to-mor- 
row. 

It  might  be  objected  that  the  grouping  of  such 
diversely  great  men  as  Shaw,  Barrie  and  Galsworthy 
precludes  the  use  of  the  term  "School."  Shaw  with 
his  brilliancy  of  dialogue  and  his  startling  originality, 
Barrie  with  his  undercurrent  of  fantasy,  Galsworthy 
with  his  somber  power,  are  indeed  different.  Never- 
theless there  is  a  pervading  current  through  all  their 
work  that  marks  them  distinctly  as  of  one  time  and 
one  movement:  a  straightforward  method  of  play- 
building,  a  haunting  social  note,  a  peculiarly  modern 
attitude  of  mind. 

If  one  desired  to  chart  the  growth  of  the  modern 
drama  of  thought,  it  would  be  necessary  to  go  back 
to  the  French  dramatists  who  first  began  to  modify 
the  artificial  standards  of  the  Scribe-Sardou  School: 
to  Augier  and  Dumas  the  younger;  then  to  turn  to 
Ibsen,  the  great  revolutionist;  and  then  to  draw  a 
number  of  parallel  lines  for  the  concurrent  develop- 
ments in  Germany,  Russia,  Scandinavia,  and  Eng- 
land— with  a  single  thread  to  France,  and  hardly 
half  a  thread  to  Italy,  Spain,  and  the  United  States. 


70  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

But  while  it  is  easy  to  trace  the  influence  of  Ibsen 
upon  all  the  later  dramatists,  and  to  recognize  the 
interweaving  nature  of  the  later  developments,  it 
is  easy  also  to  underestimate  the  creative  element 
in  each  group,  the  influence  of  national  life  and 
ideals,  and  the  playwrights'  innate  originality.  Thus 
the  current  English  development,  while  clearly  owing 
an  immense  debt  to  Ibsen,  and  while  clearly  allied 
to  the  movement  that  produced  Hauptmann  and 
Wedekind,  is  yet  in  some  measure  an  original 
growth:  neither  a  mere  sudden  after-flaring  of  the 
torch  of  Ibsenism,  nor  a  mere  relighting  of  the  dead 
.  fire  of  the  German  or  the  Scandinavian  schools.  In 
a  very  true  sense,  the  new  English  drama  is  the  re- 
sult of  an  independent  attempt  to  be  at  once  true  to 
the  times,  true  to  human  nature,  and  true  to  art. 

The  real  extent  of  the  English  dramatists'  debt  to 
Ibsen  never  can  be  measured.  Doubtless  the  straight- 
forward art  of  the  Norwegian  master  started  the 
revolution  against  the  old  insincere  and  artificial 
forms  in  England  as  elsewhere.  And  every  con- 
temporary playwright  follows  Ibsen's  technique  more 
closely  than  that  of  any  earlier  master,  because  Ibsen 
most  perfectly  fitted  his  dramas  to  the  limitations  of 
the  modern  playhouse,  and  because  he  moulded  his 
material  into  the  form  best  suited  to  stir  modern 
audiences.  The  new  artists  of  the  theatre  have 
taken  his  compactness  of  form  and  his  sincerity 
of  treatment;  but  the  fine  thing  about  them  is  that 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    71 

they  accept  him  open-mindedly,  without  following 
him  blindly.  They  recognize  that  he  is  not  of  their 
country,  or  their  time  (for  the  world  has  taken 
mighty  strides  forward  since  he  ceased  to  write)  ; 
and  being  true  to  themselves,  they  follow  him  only 
in  so  far  as  his  art  is  universally  appealing.  They 
have  turned  in  the  same  way,  though  with  less  to 
learn,  to  Shakespeare  and  the  Greeks;  and  they  may 
quite  as  readily  find  bits  of  inspiration  in  Strindberg 
or  Brieux. 

Since  the  drama  of  thought  does  not,  like  the 
zesthetic  drama,  imply  a  complete  reversal  of  the 
principles  of  the  old  emotional  drama,  but  rather 
has  picked  up  the  drama  of  emotion,  perfected  it, 
and  augmented  its  effectiveness  by  adding  a  deeper 
and  more  significant  sort  of  appeal,  it  is  clear  that 
the  growth  of  the  one  form  in  England  has  not  been 
independent  of  the  growth  of  the  other.  One  might 
name  the  Pinero  of  "The  Second  Mrs.  Tanqueray" 
as  a  direct  forerunner  of  the  new  race  of  dramatists. 
This  play  marks  the  point  at  which  the  typical  prac- 
titioner of  the  drama  of  emotion  approaches  closest 
to  the  drama  of  thought,  to  the  intensive  idea-play. 
But  when  one  places  the  Pinero  production  beside 
one  of  the  socially  effective  plays  of  Galsworthy,  the 
wide  gap  between  the  best  of  the  emotional  plays  and 
the  typical  theme-play  is  only  too  evident.  Not  only 
is  the  deeper  social  significance  of  the  latter  very 
clearly  shadowed  forth,  but  one  is  very  unpleasantly 


72  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

impressed  with  the  older  dramatist's  dependence 
upon  the  trickery  of  the  Sardou  well-made-play:  the 
type  characterization,  the  stock  situations,  and  the 
lack  of  adequate  motivation.  Even  "The  Second 
Mrs.  Tanqueray"  exhibits  momentary  lapses  to  a 
patent  theatricality,  and  one  recognizes  in  it  im- 
mediately the  inevitable  figure  of  the  family  con- 
fidant, and  touches  of  the  old  "comic  relief." 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  the  drama  whose 
only  reason  for  being  is  in  its  power  to  stir  the  emo- 
tions has  no  legitimate  place  in  the  theatre.  The 
drama  of  emotion  provides  keen  and  wholesome 
enjoyment  and  affords  actual  new  emotional  experi- 
ence to  the  theatregoer;  moreover  it  has  a  sort  of 
social  value,  since  it  builds  sympathy.  But  it  never 
can  be  as  vital  art  as  the  drama  that  combines  emo- 
tional and  intellectual  appeal,  that  stirs  men's  souls 
and  leaves  the  after-impulse  to  do.  Arthur  Pinero 
and  Henry  Arthur  Jones  in  a  way  foreran  the  new 
movement:  they  developed  the  drama  of  emotion 
from  its  degraded  melodrama  form  to  the  best  of 
which  it  is  capable;  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
^drama  of  thought  could  have  flourished  in  the  Eng- 
lish theatre,  had  they  not  made  that  advance.  But 
Pinero  and  Jones  left  off  just  where  Galsworthy 
and  Shaw  and  Barker  began;  they  never  for  a  mo- 
ment stepped  over  into  the  field  of  the  drama  of 
sincerity,  into  the  field  of  the  social  play.  St.  John 
Hankin  did  see  the  new  ideal,  and  even  though  he 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    73 

did  not  have  the  originality  of  a  Shaw,  or  the  power 
of  a  Galsworthy,  he  wrote  plays  which  naturally 
take  place  within  the  new  movement.  Even  Oscar 
Wilde  was  closer  to  the  new  school  than  Pinero 
and  Jones,  for  he  doubtless  had  visions  of  more 
jvital  things  than  he  accomplished;  but  he  fell  prey 
to  his  own  brilliant  facility,  and  to  the  prevailing 
notion  that  anything  that  entertained  was  good 
dramatic  art. 

Let  us  see  in  just  what  ways  the  new  English 
drama  differs  from  the  old,  and  incidentally  how 
it  differs  from  the  similar  developments  in  other 
countries. 

It  is  not  possible  to  pick  any  one  play  and  say 
that  the  single  example  exhibits  perfectly  all  the 
distinguishing  qualities  of  any  school.  But  from 
the  whole  body  of  work  one  may  discover  the  com- 
mon ideal  toward  which  the  several  playwrights  are 
working,  each  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  and  each 
in  his  own  way.  What  is  it  that  the  new  English 
dramatists  are  trying  to  do?  What  ideal  emerges 
from  the  multiple  efforts  of  the  artists  of  this  latest 
school? 

The  distinguishing  quality  of  the  new  drama  is 
sincerity,  in  theme,  in  treatment  of  story,  and  in 
technical  construction.  Mainly  it  is  a  reaction  from 
the  false  theatricality  and  shallow  sentimentality  of 
the  play  of  twenty  years  ago.  The  refreshing  breath 
of  sincerity  stirs  through  its  every  part.     The  pas- 


74  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

sion  for  truth  Is,  indeed,  so  marked  that  the  English 
group  has  been  termed  "The  School  of  Sincerity," 
The  new  drama  usually  is  close  to  contemporary 
life  in  theme.  It  has  not  an  empty  shell  of  dramatic 
story,  like  the  farces  and  melodramas  of  other  days, 
that  left  the  mind  a  blank.  Nor  is  its  core  of 
thought  based  upon  the  false  premises  and  cynical 
attitude  of  the  French  triangle  plays.  The  new 
drama  treats  themes  that  are  deeply  human  and 
vitally  stirring.  The  outward  personal  plot  is  il- 
lumined by  an  inward  social  plot.  Because  the  play 
reflects  current  thought,  the  surface  character-story 
is  shot  through  with  underlying  humanitarian  mo- 
tive. The  story  is  developed  as  typical  of  deep  so- 
cial truth.  As  Ibsen  was  concerned  with  the  faint 
beginnings  of  the  feminist  movement,  the  newer 
dramatists  are  concerned  with  its  fully  developed 
and  swiftly  flowing  current;  as  Hauptmann  found 
dramatic  possibilities  in  industrial  life  twenty  years 
ago,  his  English  followers  sift  to  the  bottom  the 
more  acute  industrial  crises  of  to-day.  Sociology, 
religion,  science,  yield  up  their  themes  to  the  theatre, 
to  be  thrown  back  at  mankind  in  an  emotional  form 
more  compelling  than  argument  or  preaching  or 
teaching.  And  yet  in  the  best  plays  the  theme  never 
obtrudes  itself  apart  from  character;  it  is  expressed 
in  terms  of  emotionally  affecting  story.  The  drama 
is  brought  close  to  the  problems  of  life  without 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    75 

breaking  down  the  backgrounds  of  humanity  and 
beauty  and  mystery  that  characterize  all  art. 

In  the  treatment  of  the  plot-materials,  in  the 
fashioning  of  the  story,  the  passion  for  sincerity 
is  most  marked.  The  new  dramatists  use  no  tricks 
of  appeal.  All  those  old  melodramatic  devices  that 
so  easily  trick  the  audience  into  purely  momentary 
tears  or  laughter,  leaving  only  a  sense  of  emptiness, 
are  foreign  to  their  work.  All  the  old  false  type 
characters  are  scorned.  The  development  of  those 
forces  that  are  psychologically  subtle  is  recognized 
as  action  of  a  more  dramatic  sort  than  physical  vio- 
lence. The  inevitable  changes  of  character  and 
of  society  are  recognized  as  material  more  appeal- 
ing than  chance  happenings.  Nothing  is  Introduced 
because  it  is  sensational.  A  play  of  tragic  atmos- 
phere throughout  Is  not  brought  to  an  improbable 
happy  close,  just  to  give  the  public  what  it  wants. 
The  drama  Is  completed  logically,  without  strain- 
ing to  add  that  theatric  touch  of  finality  which  will 
allow  the  spectator  to  go  home  without  any  further 
thought  for  the  characters  or  matter  of  the  play. 
There  Is  no  overlaid  comic  relief;  and  there  are  no 
inorganic  incidents  that  are  interesting  In  themselves, 
but  extraneous  to  the  dramatic  design. 

In  the  building  of  their  dramatic  structure  the 
new  artists  seek  first  for  unity.  In  their  technique 
there  is  a  new  firmness  of  structure,  a  new  feel- 
ing for  sequential  growth.    Even  their  "exposition," 


76  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

to  use  a  technical  term,  is  so  woven  into  the  rising 
action  that  it  is  an  integral  part  of  the  play  rather 
than  a  mere  introduction.  Without  copying  the 
tricks  of  the  old  dramatic  schools,  they  have  recog- 
nized that  there  is  a  certain  crescendo  form  of  ac- 
tion that  evokes  the  greatest  emotional  response 
from  the  audience.  They  develop  this  crescendo  of 
action  with  a  new  economy  of  means,  and  a  new 
feeling  for  adequate  motivation.  The  compactness, 
swiftness,  and  tenseness  of  their  action  have  read  a 
new  meaning  into  the  word  "dramatic." 

With  all  their  sincerity  of  treatment,  with  their 
seriousness  of  theme,  with  their  scorning  of  theatri- 
cality and  sensationalism  in  story,  and  with  their 
new  integrity  of  structure,  they  bring  that  other 
quality  of  great  drama  :  imaginative  beauty.  In  their 
best  work  there  is  literary  distinction,  the  poetic 
touch.  Their  best  plays  light  up  even  the  unpleasant 
with  that  inner  beauty  which  is  the  final  test  of  all 
art. 

There  have  been  attempts  to  label  the  new  group 
of  dramatists  as  realists,  or  idealists,  or  romanti- 
cists, or  of  what-not  school.  But  they  are  elusive 
prey  for  the  artistic  cataloguers.  It  happens  that 
if  a  man  writes  a  play  of  unmistakable  genius,  there 
is  always  a  commentator  to  call  him  realistic  be- 
cause his  work  is  so  human,  and  another  to  call  him 
idealistic  because  he  is  so  finely  eclectic  in  his  choice 
of  material,  and  because  he  lights  up  that  material 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    77 

with  an  inner  ennobling  beauty.     The  trouble  lies  / 
in  that  there  are  no  standard  definitions  of  realism/ 
and  idealism   and  romanticism.      If  they   are   con-l 
trasting  terms,  so  that  a  dramatist  who  may  be  la-/ 
belled  with  one,  cannot  partake  of  the  qualities  of\ 
the  others,  then  the  new  artists  belong  to  no  one/ 
of  these  groups.     They  are  realistic  to  the  extent 
-^>±of   reflecting   current   life;   but   they   strike   to   the/ 
deeper  springs  of  human  action,  instead  of  merely 
touching  the  surface  aspects;  their  aim  is  not  the 
sort  of  realism  that  photographically  delineates  a] 
sordid  segment  of  life.     They  are  impressionistic 
in  that  they  are  true  to  their  own  impressions,  rather) 
than  painting  exactly  what  they  see  with  their  physi( 
cal  eyes.     They  are  idealistic  with  an  idealism  that! 
has  its  roots  in  the  truths  of  life  and  the  mysteriesj 
of  the  soul;  not  at  all  with   the  insincere,   unreal 
and  unconvincing  idealism  of  the  old  artificial  thea\ 
tre.     If  romance  means  something  entirely  removed! 
from  the  times  and  places  we  know,  they  are  not] 
romanticists;  but  they  are  the  truest  sort  of  roman- 
ticists if  romance  is  merely  that  permanently  ap- 
pealing sense  of  spiritual  adventure  which  underlies 
the  material  aspects  of  life,  that  intangible  some- 
thing to  which  the  passion  of  the  poet  responds. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  they  are  so  true  to  themselves;' 
and  so  careless  of  established  dramatic  boundaries/ 
that  they  so  surely  defy  classification.     They  do  not 
set  out  with  the  definite  purpose  of  being  reahsts, 


y 


78  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

or  idealists,  or  romanticists;  the  result  is  that  they 
are  merely  sincere — more  sincere  than  any  other 
group  of  dramatists  for  many  centuries. 

John  Galsworthy  is  at  once  the  most  typical  dram- 
atist of  the  new  movement  and  (since  Shaw  seems 
to  be  travelling  backward)  the  most  promising.  He 
most  perfectly  interweaves,  at  least  in  his  best  plays, 
the  story  and  the  theme,  the  emotion  plot  and  the 
thought  plot.  His  is  most  typically  the  "social" 
drama.  While  his  characterization  so  preserves  the 
'individual  note  that  our  sympathies  are  held 
throughout  the  action,  at  the  end  we  always  are  con- 
scious that  the  figures  are  social  types.  The  audi- 
ence is  left  with  a  new  insight  into,  and  with  a  new 
impulse  to  think  about,  some  humanly  significant 
problem. 

Galsworthy  is  the  one  man  to  whom  the  world 
may  look  most  hopefully  for  the  further  flowering 
of  the  drama  of  thought;  for  his  is  the  double 
equipment  of  dramatic  craftsman  and  literary  ar- 
tist. In  his  passion  for  literary  expression  he  does 
not  scorn  to  consider  the  limitations  of  the  modern 
theatre;  and  yet  in  bowing  to  those  limitations  he 
does  not  violate  his  artistic  conscience.  He  is  the 
poet,  the  true  artist,  come  again  into  the  theatre. 
Above  all  he  is  sincere — always  true  to  himself. 

Galsworthy's  personal  contribution  to  the  drama 
of  sincerity  includes  seven  plays.  Of  these  "Strife" 
and  "The  Silver  Box"  perhaps  are  most  characteris- 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    79 

tic.  Both  are  plays  that  are  alive  with  emotional 
appeal  and  that  carry  trenchant  social  messages.  In 
them  the  dramatist  preserves  his  impartial  attitude 
as  artist,  the  judicial  attitude  that  merely  brings 
forth  the  evidence,  without  stating  the  case  of  one 
side  or  the  other:  without  bitterness  showing  forth 
the  effects  of  a  social  system  through  an  emotional 
crisis.  "Justice"  is  the  third  of  the  vital  social  plays, 
but  is  less  a  work  of  art  and  more  a  social  document 
than  the  others.  It  shows  lapses  to  the  diffuseness 
of  the  novelistic  form,  and  the  central  emotional 
motive  Is  not  so  perfectly  worked  out.  Poor  Falder 
and  Ruth  Honeywill  take  hold  of  the  spectators' 
sympathies,  but  Falder  Is  rather  too  pale  a  character 
for  chief  protagonist.  The  play,  It  is  said,  brought 
about  sweeping  reforms  In  the  prison  system  which 
it  so  mercilessly  showed  forth.  Like  certain  of 
Brieux's  plays  it  is  worth  while  because  It  Is  a  vitally 
effective  social  treatise,  even  If  It  Is  artistically  de- 
fective. If  Galsworthy  had  not  written  the  similar 
plays,  "The  Pigeon"  and  "The  Eldest  Son"  (the 
latter  rather  more  brutally  Ironic  than  was  neces- 
sary), and  the  dissimilar  "Joy"  and  "The  Little 
Dream,"  he  still  would  have  stood  in  the  first  rank 
of  the  dramatists  of  thought,  by  reason  of  the  three 
that  are  such  powerful  intensive  dramas  of  thought. 
The  greatest  figure  of  the  new  group  is  perhaps 
the  least  important  as  playwright.  Bernard  Shaw 
is  by  far  the  most  brilliant  writer  of  dialogue  and 


8o  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  most  daring  thinker  who  has  come  uito  the  Eng- 
lish theatre;  but  he  is  not  at  all  the  consummate 
dramatist.  He  is  incomparable  as  moralist  and  so- 
ciological reformer;  and  no  one  has  so  successfully 
brought  the  theatre  into  the  service  of  the  social 
movement.  But  as  art  his  work  is  defective.  He 
does  not  realize  that  art  carries  a  message  through 
emotional  experience,  and  not  by  preaching  at  or 
discussion  before  an  audience;  and  he  has  not  mas- 
tered play  technique.  At  first  he  swallowed  whole 
the  method  of  play  structure  of  the  Sardou-Pinero- 
Jones  school — comic  relief,  type  figures,  and  all — 
and  he  employed  "the  long  arm  of  coincidence"  in 
a  way  that  would  have  brought  the  blush  of  shame 
to  even  Pinero  and  Jones  in  their  early  days.  Then, 
becoming  impatient  of  all  rules,  he  dropped  the  ar- 
tificial "well-made-play"  form,  for  no  form  at  all. 
The  more's  the  pity,  for  if  Shaw  had  possessed 
Ibsen's  technical  excellence,  and  had  preserved  the 
point  of  view  of  the  artist,  he  would  have  been 
greater  as  dramatist  than  Ibsen:  for  his  thought  is 
more  trenchant,  and  his  dialogue  is  more  brilliant. 
But  he  remains  the  incomparable  philosopher  and 
the  second  rate  playwright  of  the  English  theatre. 
In  the  early  group  of  "pleasant"  plays  Shaw  still 
had  the  dramatic  instinct,  and  "Candida"  and 
"Arms  and  the  Man"  are  among  the  most  delight- 
ful actable  comedies  of  recent  times — and  even  the 
implausible  "You  Never  Can  Tell"  has  a  certain 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    8i 

dramatic  effectiveness.  In  the  early  plays  of  social 
purpose,  of  the  type  of  "Mrs.  Warren's  Profes- 
sion," the  dramatic  element  still  Is  mixed  with  the 
moralistic;  then  as  the  years  go  by  the  dialectician 
gains  on  the  playwright,  until  In  "Getting  Married" 
the  moralist  has  completely  conquered  the  drama- 
tist. Even  In  "Man  and  Superman,"  which  is  in 
some  respects  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  most 
important  plays  of  the  new  movement,  the  action 
is  so  clogged  with  philosophic  discussion  and  with 
inorganic  incident  that  the  drama  takes  important 
place  on  the  bookshelf  rather  than  on  the  stage. 
Just  as  Shakespeare  Is  the  incomparable  poet,  the 
unrivalled  literary  artist,  rather  than  the  Incom- 
parable dramatist,  so  Shaw  Is  the  great  social 
thinker,  and  even  the  great  humorist,  rather  than 
the  great  dramatic  artist.  He  really  has  advanced 
the  new  movement  more  by  stirring  contemporary 
playwrights  to  think  deeply  than  by  his  direct  con- 
tribution to  the  theatre. 

Granville  Barker  is  a  follower  of  Shaw,  and  has 
much  of  the  Shavian  independence  of  thought — but 
without  the  Shavian  Inclslveness.  On  the  other  hand, 
Barker  Is  by  far  the  better  technician.  "The  Marry- 
ing of  Ann  Leete,"  "Waste,"  and  "The  Voysey  In- 
heritance" have  a  definite  progression  of  incident 
and  an  adequate  motivation  that  are  foreign  to  most 
of  the  Shaw  plays.  The  worst  fault  in  Barker's 
dramas  is  an  occasional  diffuseness  of  dialogue,  an 


82  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

extension  of  the  introductory  conversations  to  sub- 
jects that  are  entirely  foreign  to  the  central  theme 
and  story.  The  opening  act  of  "Waste"  especially 
Is  marked  by  irrelevancies.  In  the  attempt  to  create 
atmosphere,  no  doubt,  the  dramatist  has  sacrificed 
terseness  of  expression  and  compactness.  In  the 
later  "Madras  House"  Barker  unfortunately  has 
followed  the  Shaw  faults  as  well  as  the  Shaw  vir- 
tues, and  produced  the  least  dramatic  of  his  works. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  will  develop  along  the  lines 
indicated  in  the  earlier  plays — and  then  he  may  hold 
the  place  that  he  has  taken  rather  provisionally 
among  the  four  or  five  leaders  of  the  intensive 
drama  movement. 

J.  M.  Barrie  is  more  independent  of  his  contem- 
poraries than  any  other  dramatist  of  the  new  group. 
Perhaps  half  of  his  plays  cannot  by  any  straining 
be  squeezed  into  conformance  with  the  definition 
of  the  drama  of  thought.  But  while  the  others  have, 
as  a  rule,  touches  of  the  Barrie  fantasy  and  an  un- 
dercurrent of  sentimentalism,  they  are  distinctly  of 
the  idea-play  type.  It  is  a  long  stride  from  "Peter 
Pan"  to  "The  Twelve  Pound  Look"  and  "What 
Every  Woman  Knows,"  and  especially  to  the  later 
plays  of  the  type  of  the  ironic  little  "Half  an  Hour," 
and  one  fancies  that  Barrie  never  would  have  taken 
it  had  there  not  been  a  Shaw  and  a  Galsworthy  to 
show  that  there  was  legitimate  dramatic  material 
in  the  deeper  phases  of  life.     But  Barrie  saw  the 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    83 

new  light,  and  coming  to  it,  brought  in  a  romantic 
note  that  the  intensive  drama  so  far  had  lacked.  If 
Galsworthy  lessened  the  gap  between  realism  and 
idealism,  Barrie  showed  that  the  old  conception 
of  realism  and  romanticism  as  opposite  extremes 
was  false.  And  he  proved  that  the  literary  artist 
turned  dramatist  can  retain  his  literary  charm  while 
being  true  to  the  theatre. 

Because  Arnold  Bennett  never  freed  himself  from 
the  novelist's  viewpoint  and  the  novelist's  methods, 
as  did  Barrie  and  Galsworthy,  his  plays  never  have 
been  entirely  effective  in  the  theatre.  He  is  dis- 
tinctly of  the  new  movement,  when  one  analyzes 
what  he  is  trying  to  do;  but  his  work  is  defective 
because  he  has  not  thrown  off  the  novelist's  diffuse- 
ness  of  form.  One  feels,  too,  that  he  has  not  the 
passion  for  sincerity  that  marks  several  of  his  fel- 
low dramatists.  "The  Great  Adventure"  Is  a  drama- 
tization of  an  earlier  novel,  and  naturally  would  not 
exhibit  typical  dramatic  tension  and  compactness. 
But  even  those  other  plays  that  were  written  pri- 
marily for  the  theatre  indicate  an  incomplete  under- 
standing of  the  rigid  economy  of  means  necessary 
to  the  building  up  of  a  logical  play  structure.  Thus 
"What  the  Public  Wants"  when  put  on  the  stage  had 
delightful  moments,  as  do  all  the  Bennett  produc- 
tions, but  somehow  one  felt  that  here  was  a  carica- 
ture of  the  real  idea-play:  that  here  was  a  half- 
hearted or  a  blundering  attempt  to  treat  sincerely 


:»4  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

a  live  social  theme.  It  Is  quite  conceivable  that 
Arnold  Bennett  believes  what  he  has  so  cleverly 
said  and  so  widely  published  about  the  uselessness 
of  studying  dramatic  technique.  Perhaps  when  his 
hasty  self-sufficiency  has  been  cooled  somewhat  by 
his  comparative  failure  In  the  theatre,  he  will  take 
pains  to  construct  dramas  that  are  intensely  dramatic 
as  well  as  clever  and  Incidentally  delightful. 

If  Bennett  must  be  included  in  the  group  of  new 
dramatists  because  he  has  written  plays  which  are 
faintly  reflective  of  the  new  ideals,  there  are  sev- 
eral "one-play"  dramatists  who  are  equally  entitled 
to  places  because  each  has  written  a  single  drama 
that  Is  very  typical  of  the  school.  John  Masefield's 
"Tragedy  of  Nan"  Is  one  of  the  finest  accomplish- 
ments of  the  younger  generation.  It  adds  notable 
literary  beauty  to  a  typically  dramatic  idea-play. 
In  some  ways  It  exhibits  as  perfectly  as  any  other 
drama  the  realization  of  the  new  dual  realistic- 
idealistic  aim :  the  modern  desire  for  greater  literal 
knowledge  but  for  greater  idealism  In  interpreting 
that  knowledge.  Stanley  Houghton  is  another  dram- 
atist whose  single  important  play  links  him  unmis- 
takably with  Galsworthy  and  Shaw  and  Barker. 
"HIndle  Wakes"  is  a  vigorous  close-knit  study  of 
English  life,  fearlessly  unconventional  In  thought  and 
presented  with  great  technical  ability.^     GItha  Sow- 

*The  unfortunate  death  of  Stanley  Houghton,  in  early  man- 
hood, has  occurred  since  this  essay  was  written. 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    85 

erby,  in  "Rutherford  and  Son,"  wrote  a  typically 
powerful  and  compact  intensive  drama,  that  was 
sombre  but  gripping. 

St.  John  Hankin  was  one  of  the  pioneers  of  the 
new  English  group  and  a  number  of  his  plays  are 
distinctly  worth  while.  But  he  lacked  to  some  mea- 
sure the  depth  of  thought  and  the  power  of  his 
better  known  followers. 

The  Irish  School  of  playwrights  is  distinctly  al- 
lied with  the  group  that  has  been  discussed;  but  the 
note  of  nationalism  is  so  inbred  that  the  develop- 
ment must  be  considered  as  in  some  measure  a  sep- 
arate growth.  The  Irish  plays,  from  Synge  to  St. 
John  Ervine,  are  idea-plays,  and  they  blend  realism 
and  idealism  and  symbolism  as  perfectly  as  any 
dramas  of  the  new  movement.  But  always  there  is  ^^-*^ 
a  distinct  difference:  the  universal  social  message  is 
less  stressed,  the  racial  peculiarities  are  noticeable, 
and  there  is  a  poetic  conception,  a  literary  beauty, 
that  seldom  has  been  surpassed  in  any  body  of 
drama.  From  Yeats,  in  whom  the  poetry  is  more 
important  than  the  dramatic  element,  and  Synge, 
who  brought  the  poetic  conception  to  everyday  life 
in  some  of  the  most  remarkable  productions  of 
modern  times,  to  Lady  Gregory  and  Ervine,  there 
is  a  wide  range  of  excellence.  But  all,  with  the  pos- 
sible exception  of  Yeats,  are  distinctly  products  of 
the  time,  reflecting  the  worldwide  new  spirit. 

For  the  rest   there  are  half  a   dozen  who,  in 


86  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

achievement  or  promise,  are  typically  dramatists  of 
thought;  but  a  word  must  suffice  for  each.  Elizabeth 
Baker  wrote  "Chains,"  typical  of  the  close-range 
point  of  view  and  the  straightforward  technique  of 
the  new  school.  Cosmo  Hamilton,  in  "The  Blind- 
ness of  Virtue,"  wrote  a  play  with  a  real  message, 
but  his  treatment  was  less  sincere  than  one  might 
wish;  the  sentimental  touches  and  the  comic  relief 
were  too  clearly  laid  on  according  to  an  artificial 
and  outworn  method.  And  Macdonald  Hastings, 
Israel  Zangwill  and  Gilbert  Cannan  all  have  con- 
tributed in  some  degree  to  the  movement's  progress. 
In  conclusion  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  the 
actual  advance  from  the  traditional  forms  of  drama- 
\  tic  entertainment  to  the  infinitely  more  vital  and 
i  artistic  new  forms  has  come  not  in  London, 
|the  English  centre  of  dramatic  commerce,  but  in 
\"the  provinces."  Though  the  "Stage  Society" 
first  cradled  the  movement  in  London,  much  as 
the  famous  "  Theatre  Libre"  cradled  the  corre- 
sponding development  in  Paris,  the  later  growth 
occurred  away  from  the  capital.  And  just  as 
the  most  promising  forces  in  the  American  theatre 
to-day  are  at  work  in  the  scattered  experimental 
theatres  and  at  the  universities — indeed  anywhere 
but  on  Broadway — so  the  new  English  drama  has 
been  developing  and  is  being  developed  chiefly  in 
such  experimental  or  at  least  non-commercial  play- 
houses as  Miss  Horniman's  Repertory  Theatre  in 


THE  NEW  ENGLISH  DRAMATISTS    87 

Manchester,  and  The  Abbey  Theatre  In  Dublin.  The 
repertory  theatre  movement  Is  growing  with  re- 
markable rapidity,  and  the  close  correspondence 
of  its  development  with  that  of  the  new  drama  indi- 
cates more  than  a  mere  coincidence.  The  repertory 
theatres  not  only  are  calling  forth  Increasingly  fine 
plays  from  the  new  race  of  dramatists,  but  they  are 
breeding  a  new  generation  of  actors  competent  to 
interpret  the  drama  of  thought.  Miss  Hornlman's 
remarkably  capable  company,  with  the  wonderful 
Irene  Rooke,  recently  proved  to  Americans,  in  an 
engagement  all  too  short,  how  much  finer  the  new 
drama  really  Is  than  the  old,  provided  the  inter- 
pretation is  adequate.  The  cycle  of  plays  Included 
Galsworthy's  "The  Silver  Box,"  Shaw's  "Candida," 
Bennett's  "What  the  Public  Wants,"  and  Mase- 
field's  "Tragedy  of  Nan."  Its  effectiveness  proved 
how  satisfying  the  new  English  drama  is  for  lovers 
of  the  serious  art  of  the  theatre,  for  those  who  care 
for  the  sort  of  drama  that  stirs  something  deeper 
than  surface  tears  and  idle  laughter. 


IV 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT  AND 
THE  DRAMA  OF  SINCERITY 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT  AND 
THE  DRAMA  OF  SINCERITY 

Of  the  two  deeply  significant  movements  in  the 
present-day  theatre,  only  one  has  reached  the  Ameri- 
can playhouse  in  any  appreciable  measure.  In  Euro- 
pean countries  the  aesthetic  theatre  movement  has 
grown  to  such  vital  proportions  that  it  is  absorb- 
ing the  genius  of  some  of  the  world's  most  original 
artists;  but  the  American  dramatist  has  contributed 
practically  nothing  to  its  development.  Whether 
through  some  inherent  lack  of  creative  ability  in  the 
field  of  impressionistic  drama,  or  through  the  out- 
ward organization  of  the  "show  business"  in  Ameri- 
ca, little  effort  has  been  directed  to  the  production 
of  purely  "aesthetic"  plays.  Aside  from  certain 
forms  of  pageantry  and  the  charming  production  of 
"The  Yellow  Jacket"  there  is  little  to  record  that 
is  even  remotely  suggestive  of  the  ideals  of  Gordon 
Craig  and  Max  Reinhardt  and  Leon  Bakst.    . 

What  progress  has  been  made  by  the  Americans 
as  a  part  of  the  recent  worldwide  expansion  of  the 
activities  of  the  theatre  has  been  in  the  direction 

91 


92  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  the  new  intensive  drama,  the  drama  of  thought. 
To  perfect  the  old  drama  of  emotion  and  to  add  a 
new  significance  to  it  —as  the  new  English  drama- 
tists are  doing — rather  than  to  strike  into  the  untried 
field  of  decorative  or  aesthetic  drama,  clearly  is  the 
aim  of  the  younger  (and  the  only  Important)  gen- 
eration of  American  playwrights. 

'The  drama  of  sincerity"  is  the  most  recent  and 
the  most  vital  development  of  the  psychologic  drama. 
It  is  the  latest  flowering  of  the  drama  of  combined 
emotional  and  intellectual  appeal,  which  first  blos- 
somed in  the  work  of  Ibsen.  It  is  the  art  of  the 
English  "school  of  sincerity"  in  playwriting:  the  art 
of  John  Galsworthy  and  Bernard  Shaw,  for  in- 
stance, and  of  J.  M.  Barrie,  and  Granville  Barker 
and  Stanley  Houghton. 

/  The  quality  that  chiefly  distinguishes  this  group  of 
English  dramatists  is  sincerity.  They  strive  above 
all  to  be  true  to  themselves.  But  as  they  are  men 
who  live  deeply  and  study  and  write  passionately, 
they  are  at  the  same  time  true  to  life  and  to  art. 
Their  plays  are  truly  dramatic,  rather  than  theatric; 
they  are  natural,  but  not  slavishly  photographic: 
they  incorporate  only  detail  that  is  organic  to  the 
dramatic  design;  they  interpret  rather  than  Imitate; 
they  deal  with  inner  spiritual  forces,  rather  than 
with  outward  melodramatic  happenings;  they  affect 
the  emotions,  and  indirectly  the  mind,  by  a  quiet 
development  of  character,  rather  than  pleasing  the 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT      93 

outward  senses  and  surface  feelings  by  sensation- 
alism. Their  work  usually  is  social  drama  in  the 
best  sense.  It  is  humanitarian,  because  they  reflect 
contemporary  life,  and  the  spirit  of  the  age  is  hu- 
manitarian. 

These  men  are  stripping  the  theatre  production 
of  all  sensational  incident,  of  all  those  details  that 
are  interesting  but  unimportant,  and  of  all  the  old 
insincere  adjuncts  of  plot,  acting  and  setting;  tak- 
ing the  remaining  essential  skeleton  of  unified  story, 
they  are  clothing  it  with  imaginative  beauty,  making 
it  emotionally  appealing,  and  adding  to  it  a  social 
significance.  In  their  best  work  they  are  not  losing 
the  sense  of  the  sweetness  of  life  in  a  sense  of  the 
finality  of  evil.  They  end  their  plays  seriously  and 
in  the  same  pervading  mood  as  they  began  them, 
without  straining  to  close  with  either  an  improbable 
happiness  or  an  unlikely  death.  From  beginning  to 
end  they  are  sincere. 

It  is  this  sort  of  drama  that  the  American  play- 
wright has  in  mind — that  Is,  if  he  Is  concerned  with 
the  theatre  as  an  art  rather  than  as  a  business;  in 
short,  if  he  Is  sincere.  If  he  is  passionately  fond 
of  his  art,  and  alive  to  every  development  of  that 
art  and  to  Its  relation  to  life,  he  cannot  but  see 
that  the  Impending  vital  development  of  American 
drama  will  be  toward  the  ideals  that  Galsworthy 
and  his  fellow  dramatists  are  realizing  In  England. 

That  the  influence  of  the  new  English  dramatists 


94  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

already  has  been  felt  in  America,  one  who  has 
studied  the  productions  of  the  past  two  or  three 
seasons  cannot  doubt.  Already  there  are  welcome 
signs  that  the  American  writer  for  the  theatre  is 
striving  to  produce  a  body  of  drama  close  to  the 
people,  reflecting  the  life  of  the  times,  touched  with 
imaginative  beauty,  and  emotionally  appealing  in  a 
sincere  way.  Indeed  the  signs  are  so  evident  that 
it  is  worth  while  to  enquire  wherein  and  why  he  has 
failed  as  compared  with  his  English  brother. 

In  the  first  place  It  may  be  remarked  that  the 
trouble  lies  neither  in  the  material  nor  in  the  demand, 
but  in  the  playwright.  The  material  Is  at  hand  and 
the  public  is  ready;  the  failure  lies  with  the  artist. 
A  condition  precedent  to  any  great  development  of 
art  is  a  period  of  wide  social,  industrial  and  po- 
litical activity.  By  that  token  surely  in  America  to- 
day the  time  is  ripe  for  a  flowering  of  art.  Cer- 
tainly at  no  time  or  place  in  the  world's  history  has 
life  been  lived  more  widely,  more  deeply,  more  in- 
tensely. Not  only  does  the  average  man  have  a 
wider  range  of  physical  experience  than  ever  before; 
but  the  artist-dreamer,  the  man  who  sees  down  to 
the  underlying  causes  of  material  things,  enjoys  a 
wider  range  of  spiritual  adventure  than  ever  before. 
In  the  pulsating  life  of  the  American  people,  from 
the  crowded  cities  to  the  broad  solitary  spaces  of 
the  plains  and  mountains,  there  are  themes  and  sto- 
ries for  innumerable  gripping  dramas.     It  Is  not 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT      95 

the  material  that  Is  lacking,  but  the  dramatist  who 
can  realize  and  convey  the  beauty  that  underlies  the 
virility  of  American  life. 

It  is  sometimes  objected,  generally  by  the  theatre 
"manager,"  that  the  public  is  not  ready  to  accept 
the  drama  of  sincerity,  that  there  is  no  audience 
for  "serious"  work;  or  again  that  it  will  not  accept 
plays  by  American  dramatists  with  American  char- 
acters and  ideas,  except  in  the  more  sensational  and 
more  obvious  types.  The  objection  might  have  been 
valid  ten,  or  even  five,  years  ago.  But  to-day  it 
is  not.  The  popular  success  of  the  plays  of  Barrie; 
the  increasing  response  to  the  offerings  of  Gals- 
worthy, Masefield,  Synge,  Bennett,  and  Shaw,  when 
adequately  acted;  the  success  of  Mrs.  Fiske,  Mary 
Shaw  and  Alia  Nazimova  in  Ibsen's  dramas;  the 
sustained  support  of  Winthrop  Ames'  series  of  "ad- 
vanced" plays,  and  of  the  offerings  of  the  Chicago 
Fine  Arts  Theatre;  and  the  growing  interest  in  the 
repertory  of  the  Irish  Players — these  and  many  more 
indications  point  to  the  existence  of  an  ever-increas- 
ing large  audience  for  the  drama  of  sincerity.  And  if 
the  play  has  the  universal  element  in  it,  the  American 
audience  will  accept  it  whether  it  treats  of  American 
life,  or  English,  or  Norwegian,  or  of  any  other. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  trouble  with  the 
theatre  in  France  is  that  French  audiences  are  over- 
sophisticated:  that  the  French  dramatist  no  longer 
can  touch  the  jaded  sensibilities  of  the  theatregoer 


96  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

except  by  strained  situation  and  violent  emotion. 
American  audiences  are  emphatically  not  in  that  po- 
sition; they  are  not  over-sophisticated,  and  they  are 
becoming  increasingly  cultivated  and  eager  for 
dramas  that  appeal  subtly  to  the  emotions  and  in- 
tellect, rhey  rightly  demand  plays  that  entertain 
— no  drama  or  picture  or  poem  is  worthy  of  the 
name  of  art  if  it  does  not  hold  the  interest — but  they 
no  longer  demand  insincerity.  The  American  play- 
wright who,  instead  of  melodramatizing  the  outward 
aspects  of  American  life,  dramatizes  its  inner  spir- 
itual motives  and  its  subtler  underlying  forces,  will 
find  an  immense  audience  ready  and  eager  for  him. 
The  material  is  at  hand  and  the  audience  is  ready; 
the  American  theatre  only  awaits  the  dramatic  poet- 
craftsman. 

The  much-discussed  failure  of  the  American  play- 
wright is  only  a  comparative  failure.  Judged  by 
comparison  with  a  Galsworthy  or  a  Barrie,  his 
achievement  certainly  is  a  failure.  But  the  present 
writer,  and  every  fair  commentator,  must  recognize 
that  the  present  stage  of  the  art  in  this  country 
is  an  indication  of  a  very  true  progress  when  con- 
trasted with  conditions  of  ten  years  ago.  The  ad- 
vance during  the  past  decade  has  been  very  real  and 
very  encouraging.  And  the  writer  believes  in  the 
assured  coming  of  a  great  body  of  vital  American 
drama  quite  as  confidently  as  he  does  in  the  future 
of  American  painting  or  American  sculpture.     But 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT      97 

granting  the  real  progress  of  the  past  and  the  bright 
promise  of  the  future,  It  Is  none  the  less  true  that 
the  American  dramatist  of  to-day  is  a  failure  if 
judged  by  his  contemporaries  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic. 

In  answering  wherein  American  plays  fall,  one 
may  sum  up  the  indictment  in  three  counts :  first, 
that  they  have  too  much  untempered  strength,  and 
not  enough  depth  and  subtlety;  second,  that  they 
lack  the  poetic  touch,  the  sense  of  beauty;  and  third 
that  they  too  often  are  marred  by  the  attempt  to  give 
the  public  what  It  wants,  chiefly  in  comic  relief  and 
in  melodramatic  turns. 

American  plays  suffer  from  a  surfeit  of  strength, 
of  force.  There  Is  a  Broadway  term  which  exactly 
expresses  the  apotheosis  of  this  quality:  "the  play 
with  a  punch."  The  term  carries  Its  own  condemna- 
tion. The  play  with  a  punch  exists  for  the  punch, 
and  not  for  the  dramatic  building  up  of  a  story  from 
subtle  beginnings  to  an  emotional  climax;  It  is  just 
what  It  connotes:  the  prizefight  element  In  drama — 
brute  force  and  shock.  It  Is  a  dramatization  of  the 
violent  moments  of  life.  It  deals  with  surface  as- 
pects rather  than  underlying  causes.  Great  drama 
always  Is  strong  and  dir»^t  ^  od  forceful;  but  Its 
strength  always  Is  blended  with  .  btlety.  American 
drama  has  the  strength,  but  seld..  n  the  tempering 
subtlety.     It  Is  admirably  direct,  but  it  Is  shallow. 

The  poetic  element  is  lacking  In  tbe  productions 


98  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  American  playwrights.  When  their  plays  are 
worth  while  for  poetic  quality,  as  Percy  Mackaye's 
"Sappho  and  Phaon,"  or  Josephine  Preston  Pea- 
body's  "The  Piper,"  they  take  rank  as  literature 
rather  than  as  drama.  In  the  actable  plays  of  the 
day  there  is  not  the  poetic  touch,  the  inner  illuminat- 
ing beauty  that  would  make  them  great  art.  In  the 
dramas  of  Galsworthy  and  Barrie  there  is  a  poetic 
element,  a  literary  distinction,  a  pervading  beauty 
that  cannot  be  defined,  and  yet  is  always  sensed  by 
the  reader  or  spectator.  It  is  the  touch  of  the 
poet,  the  artist,  the  dreamer,  that  has  distinguished 
all  great  drama  from  iEschylus  to  Ibsen;  it  is  the 
quality  that  makes  plays  eternally  lasting  and  uni- 
versally appealing.  That  quality  is  seldom  felt  in 
American  plays. 

The  American  playwrights  as  a  group  have  been 
severely  criticized  by  foreign  commentators  for  pan- 
dering so  largely  to  public  taste.  It  is  only  too  true 
that  the  majority  of  them  have  sacrificed  their  inde- 
pendence of  viewpoint  and  their  ideals  of  art,  to  give 
the  public  what  it  wants — or  rather  what  the  mana- 
ger supposes  it  wants.  In  one  sense  art  exists  vitally 
only  in  its  resultant  effect  'ipon  an  audience.  There 
is  no  more  futile  a'  jrtion  in  the  whole  field  of  art 
than  a  true  dram  chat  never  is  acted  before  an  au- 
dience. So  thr  ii-amatist  to  a  certain  extent  must 
shape  his  pla  s  to  the  demands  of  the  audiences 
of  the  time.     But  that  is  not  a  valid  excuse  for  de- 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT      99 

basing  the  drama  for  the  ever-present  vulgar  portion 
of  the  public.  The  fine  thing  about  the  situation  in 
the  dramatic  world  to-day  is  that  there  is  a  very 
large  cultivated,  serious-minded  audience  that  is 
ready  to  accept  sincere  drama.  One  can  call  to  mind 
half  a  dozen  recent  American  plays  that  would  have 
been  just  as  effective  and  just  as  appealing,  had  they 
been  stripped  of  their  comic  relief,  their  superflu- 
ous sensationalism,  and  their  insincere  endings — 
provided,  of  course,  the  dramatist  making  the 
changes  had  been  possessed  of  true  dramatic  power, 
had  been  a  true  artist  of  the  theatre.  There  is 
nothing  inherently  repelling  about  sincerity  in  a 
drama.  But  it  is  much  easier  to  write  a  play  that 
will  entertain  with  comic  relief,  and  melodramatic 
situation,  and  insincere  sentimentality,  than  to  fash- 
ion a  drama  at  once  sincere  and  grippingly  interest- 
ing. The  American  playwrights,  with  very  few  ex- 
ceptions, have  failed  to  show  themselves  capable  of 
producing  drama  that  is  true  enough  to  art  to  be  able 
to  draw  audiences  without  the  aid  of  added  insincere 
and  inorganic  attractions. 

Having  recognized  some  of  the  qualities  wherein 
they  have  failed,  one  may  well  ask  why  they  have 
failed.  The  causes  are  many,  but  it  is  worth  while 
to  trace  one  or  two  of  the  principal  ones. 

The  lack  of  subtlety  and  lack  of  depth  are  due 
in  some  measure  to  the  fact  that  our  playwrights 
have  been  recruited  largely  from  the  ranks  of  news- 


loo  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

paper  writers.  To  mention  only  a  few  who  come 
to  mind  immediately:  Eugene  Walter,  Augustus 
Thomas,  George  Ade,  William  C.  DeMille,  and  A. 
E.  Thomas.  The  newspaper  men  have  brought  to 
the  theatre  an  admirable  directness  and  a  "dramatic 
sense."  But  necessarily  they  have  been  trained  to 
see  rapidly  the  surface  aspects  of  life,  rather  than 
to  ponder  deeply  on  the  underlying  motives  and 
causes.  They  have  the  reportorial  instinct  for  out- 
ward sensational  situations,  but  not  the  dramatist's 
insight  into  motivation  and  character  growth.  They 
display  a  wonderful  facility  in  grasping  vital  stories 
and  setting  them  forth  in  quick  forceful  strokes; 
but  they  too  seldom  free  themselves  from  journalis- 
tic haste  and  shallowness. 

Another  large  group  of  writers  for  the  theatre 
— and  especially  of  the  older  men — have  been 
brought  up  within  the  playhouse,  and  find  it  difficult 
to  get  away  from  what  is  inherently  theatrical.  They 
have  witnessed  so  many  times  the  effectiveness  of 
the  old  stock  situations  that  they  mistake  them  for 
the  dramatic  elements  of  life.  Men  like  David  Be- 
lasco,  who  were  schooled  in  the  theatre  of  the  eight- 
ies and  nineties,  cannot  bring  themselves  to  part  with 
the  melodramatic  poses,  the  comic  relief  figures,  and 
the  distracting  naturalisms  of  setting,  that  were  so 
large  a  part  of  the  stock  in  trade  of  the  past  genera- 
tion of  playwrights.  One  cannot  but  feel  that  they 
often  see  the  right  goal,  that  they  catch  glimpses 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    loi 

of  the  ideals  of  the  new  movement,  but  that  theatri- 
cality and  artistic  insincerity  are  so  deeply  bred  In 
them  that  they  never  can  contribute  vitally  to  Ameri- 
can drama. 

A  very  potent  cause  for  the  failure  of  the  Ameri- 
can dramatist  is  that  he  generally  is  too  close  to  the 
glittering  lights  and  glittering  dollars  of  Broadway. 
There  Is  in  his  hurried  life  a  constant  temptation 
to  commercialize  his  talents.  Again  and  again  men 
of  solid  promise  have  lowered  their  Ideals  to  pro- 
duce plays  that  were  melodramatic,  or  farcical,  or 
sentimentally  sweet  enough  to  catch  the  "popular" 
taste;  and  others  have  turned  their  hands  to  the 
fashioning  of  musical  comedy  librettos,  to  satisfy  the 
jaded  appetites  of  the  tired  business  man.  It  hap- 
pens that  artistic  ideals  once  compromised  are  dif- 
ficult to  regain.  Men  who  once  have  set  the  dollar 
standard  above  the  art  standard  seldom  return  to 
significant  creative  work.  There  is  something  pa- 
thetic, as  well  as  something  fine,  in  the  spectacle  of 
Charles  Klein — perhaps  the  most  successful  of 
American  playwrights,  according  to  Broadway  stand- 
ards— breaking  all  his  ties  In  America,  and  sailing 
for  England  and  quietude.  He  was  big  enough  to 
see  that  he  had  lost  his  artistic  perspective  in  the  en- 
vironment of  commercialism  into  which  he  had 
drifted  in  New  York.  Many  another  writer  might 
with  advantage  to  his  art  get  away  from  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  "show  business"  which  pervades 


102  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

Broadway.  There  is  no  intent  to  suggest  that  the 
dramatist  should  isolate  himself  away  from  New 
York  and  the  other  big  cities.  On  the  contrary  the 
great  American  dramatists  will  be  distinctly  of  the 
city.  But  they  will  know  the  bigness  and  the  solitude 
of  the  country  as  well.  When  they  come  to  New 
York's  truly  remarkable  dramatic  centre,  with  its 
eddying  life  and  its  immense  risks  and  gains  in  theat- 
rical ventures,  and  its  temptations  to  lower  stand- 
ards and  imitate  and  make  "successes,"  they  will 
keep  their  heads  and  see  that  there  are  more  signifi- 
cant achievements  for  the  man  of  independent 
thought  and  high  ideals.  They  will  live  the  life 
of  the  city  intensely;  but  they  will  remember  that 
dreaming  and  pondering  are  part  of  the  battle. 
They  will  accept  Broadway  at  its  true  value  and  no 
more. 

A  more  fundamental  reason  for  the  failure  of 
the  American  playwright  is  that  in  the  American 
theatres  the  play  has  not  been  the  thing.  The  drama 
has  been  of  secondary  importance  to  the  acting  and 
the  setting;  the  work  of  the  playwright  secondary 
to  that  of  manager,  producer  and  actor.  Fortu- 
nately the  condition  is  passing,  but  without  doubt  it 
has  had  a  retarding  effect  upon  the  growth  of  a  vital 
American  drama.  It  was  not  so  very  long  ago  that 
the  name  of  the  playwright  was  as  often  as  not 
omitted  from  the  program;  and  even  now  it  is  not 
unusual  to  see  the  manager's  and  actors'  names  much 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    103 

more  conspicuously  displayed  than  the  author's.  In- 
evitably such  lack  of  consideration  tends  to  degrade 
the  position  of  the  playwright  to  that  of  a  tradesman 
rather  than  an  artist.  The  "star  system"  has  made 
It  appear  that  the  work  of  the  actor  was  more  vital 
as  art  than  the  work  of  the  dramatist;  and  many  a 
play  has  been  marred  by  being  strained  to  fit  a  cer- 
tain "star."  We  are  at  last  learning  that  it  Is  the 
playwright's  art  which  is  truly  creative,  and  that 
the  actor's  work  should  be  Interpretative.  The 
dramatist  should  be  recognized  as  the  artist,  the 
actor  as  the  tool  for  the  accomplishment  of  that 
artist's  purpose.  The  average  American  play  has 
been  buried,  too,  under  all  sorts  of  "scenic  effects" 
and  superadded  vaudeville  "stunts."  The  manager 
has  counted  as  so  much  clear  gain  any  trick  of  setting 
or  any  added  Incident  that  would  bring  a  laugh  or  a 
round  of  applause  from  the  audience,  without  regard 
to  relevance  or  organic  connection  with  the  essential 
plot.  The  practice  has  tended  to  degrade  the  pro- 
duction to  vaudeville  standards,  and  to  discourage 
the  writing  of  plays  of  unified  structure,  designed  to 
evoke  a  single  sustained  mood.  Both  the  star  system 
and  the  managers'  craze  for  "stage  effects"  have  con- 
tributed substantially  to  the  failure  of  the  American 
playwright. 

It  Is  worth  while  to  turn  for  a  moment  to  the 
consideration  of  Individual  playwrights :  to  measure 
individually  the  achievement  and  the  promise  of  the 


104  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

men  who  are  writing  to-day  for  the  American  stage. 
One  Is  likely  to  turn  more  hopefully  to  a  man  of 
marked  poetic  ability,  like  Percy  Mackaye,  than  to 
some  others  who  have  shown  more  strength  and 
dramatic  directness  but  less  literary  distinction.  For 
the  poetic  touch  and  the  Imaginative  element  are 
more  difficult  to  cultivate  than  forcefulness  and 
dramatic  technique.  Percy  Mackaye  began  his  career 
as  dramatist  with  a  series  of  plays  which  are  more 
significant  as  literature  than  as  drama.  The  most 
important  of  these,  "Sappho  and  Phaon,"  has  admir- 
able flashes  of  true  poetry,  but  Its  beauty  is  too  re- 
flective, and  the  development  of  its  action  Is  not  quite 
swift  and  direct  enough  to  make  it  emotionally  ap- 
pealing on  the  stage.  "The  Scarecrow"  is  a  finer 
piece  of  work,  both  from  the  stage  viewpoint  and 
as  a  contribution  to  American  literature.  It  strikes 
a  note  of  fancy,  of  fantastic  beauty,  that  is  one  of 
the  saddest  needs  of  American  drama.  More  re- 
cently Mackaye  has  turned  to  contemporary  life  for 
his  stories,  recognizing  perhaps  that  he  had  been 
working  too  far  from  the  life  of  the  people.  In 
"Mater"  and  "Anti-Matrimony"  he  attempted  to 
treat  the  social  and  political  life  In  which  we  all  are 
interested,  in  a  vein  of  subtly  bantering  comedy. 
In  "To-morrow"  he  tried  to  dramatize  a  great  social 
problem.  No  one  of  the  three  plays  has  been  emi- 
nently successful  In  the  theatre ;  but  all  combine  the 
insight  of  the  poet  and  a  story  of  the  life  of  the  day. 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    105 

One  feels  that  the  fault  that  keeps  them  from  being 
great  American  plays  is  rather  one  of  form,  of  tech- 
nique, than  of  material  or  of  imperfect  imaginative 
conception.  It  is  pleasing  to  think  that  perhaps  these 
plays  mark  the  dramatist's  transition  period  between 
his  early  "literary"  work  and  a  coming  group  of 
dramas  that  will  combine  his  newly  acquired  concep- 
tion of  the  significance  of  contemporary  life  with  his 
early  evidenced  poetic  qualities.  American  drama 
needs  his  fancy,  his  wit,  his  tenderness,  and  his  wide 
reach  of  imagination  and  depth  of  insight.  But  he 
must  gain  a  little  more  strength,  a  feeling  for  the 
forceful  intensity  of  American  life;  and  he  must 
mould  his  stories  in  a  form  more  compact,  and  one 
emotionally  appealing  and  dramatically  persuasive. 
Then  it  is  not  improbable  that  he  will  take  rank  as 
the  foremost  American  playwright.  At  present  he 
has  in  very  generous  measure  those  subtler  qualities 
that  his  contemporaries  almost  totally  lack;  but  he 
lacks  to  a  certain  extent  the  force,  the  dramatic 
directness,  which  is  the  only  claim  to  recognition 
that  some  of  the  others  possess. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  touch  upon  the  work  of 
Josephine  Preston  Peabody  (now  Mrs.  Marks). 
She  has  been  so  successful  in  her  chosen  field  of 
poetry  that  it  would  be  unkind  to  judge  even  "The 
Piper"  by  the  standards  of  actable  drama  instead  of 
those  of  literature.  Her  plays,  like  the  early  plays 
of  Mackaye,  are  dramatic  poetry  rather  than  poetic 


io6  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

drama.  But  whereas  Mackaye  has  latterly  turned 
almost  entirely  to  drama,  and  has  achieved  fame 
chiefly  as  a  playwright,  Mrs.  Marks  remains  always 
first  and  foremost  the  poet.  Her  plays  will  live,  but 
even  on  the  stage  their  interest  will  always  have  a 
literary  or  historical  flavor,  rather  than  dramatic 
emotional  appeal.  In  subject-matter,  in  the  author's 
emphasis  on  material,  in  method  of  treatment,  they 
have  little  in  common  with  the  work  of  the  men 
whose  ideals  have  been  set  up  here  as  a  standard: 
Galsworthy,  Barrie,  Shaw,  and  the  others.  Nor 
would  any  of  us  desire  to  have  her  strain  her  art 
to  come  within  the  limitations  of  the  playhouse  as 
these  writers  have  had  to  do;  we  prefer  her  as  the 
poet. 

What  a  contrast  to  Mackaye  is  Eugene  Walter! 
If  only  one  could  have  the  poetic  conception  and 
tenderness  of  the  one  combined  with  the  sheer 
power  and  strength  of  the  other !  Walter  is  without 
a  shadow  of  doubt  the  most  forceful  of  American 
playwrights.  But  if  Mackaye  is  too  much  the  poet 
and  dreamer,  and  too  far  removed  from  the  life 
of  the  people,  one  feels  that  Walter,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  almost  too  close  to  life,  and  certainly  not 
sufficiently  the  thinker  and  the  literary  artist.  His 
early  play  "Paid  in  Full,"  despite  its  great  popular 
success,  cannot  be  considered  vital  work,  nor  is  it 
representative  of  the  author.  But  in  "The  Easiest 
Way"  and  "Fine  Feathers"  Walter  is  at  his  best. 


THE  NEW  ADAPTABLE  SETTINGS 

Cover  the  upper  picturey  and  note  how  perfectly  the 
lower  affords  the  secluded  atmosphere  of  a  room;  then 
cover  the  lower,  and  note  how  different  is  the  impression 
produced  by  the  upper,  with  its  suggestion  of  a  night  sky 
and  trees.  Seeing  the  scenes  thus,  one  at  a  time,  the 
spectator  does  not  recognize  in  either  ariy  feature  of  the 
other.  But  now  look  at  both  together,  and  see  how  small 
the  actual  change  of  the  physical  elements  has  been.  The 
atmosphere  has  changed  absolutely,  but  every  structural 
feature  is  the  same — the  hangings,  the  pillars,  and  the 
steps.  The  transformation  has  entailed  the  placing  of  a 
lantern  and  flower-stand,  the  moving  of  two  chairs,  arid 
the  sliding  back  of  a  single  panel — perhaps  two  minutes' 
work  for  one  scene-shifter.  In  the  use  of  these  adaptable 
settings  of  simple  elements,  the  great  saving  of  time  and 
expense  over  the  old  naturalistic  method  is  hardly  less 
notable  than  the  gain  in  atmospheric  beauty. 

The  success  of  this  sort  of  setting  depends  upon  the 
artist's  perfect  understanding  of  decorative  design  and 
upon  a  rigid  economy  of  means.  The  artist  in  this  case 
is  Sam  Hume,  a  young  American  who  recognized  that 
there  was  something  radically  wrong  with  practically 
all  stage  production  in  this  country,  who  studied  and 
worked  in  Europe  for  two  years,  with  Gordon  Craig 
among  others,  and  who  very  recently  made  the  designs  for 
a  number  of  productions  at  Harvard  University.  The 
photographs  are  from  models  for  a  student  production 
of  an  Elizabethan  tragedy.  They  are  typical  of  the  most 
advanced  staging  being  done  in  the  American  theatre,  and 
of  the  valuable  experimental  work  being  accomplished  at 
the  universities. 


i 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    107 

And  his  best  Is  significant,  very  significant,  in  the 
present  development  of  American  drama.  But  It  Is 
not  great  art.  It  Is  reahsm  without  the  inner  illumi- 
nating light  of  an  Ibsen  or  a  Galsworthy;  and  stark 
realism,  without  the  poet's  touch  of  ennobling  beauty, 
is  never  universally  great.  Walter's  plays  have  ad- 
mirable strength,  but  without  subtlety.  They  are 
excellent  reportorial  transcripts  of  certain  brutal 
truths  of  life;  but  they  do  not  give  the  impression  of 
being  deeply  conceived:  they  are  life  itself  rather 
than  life  transformed  to  beauty  in  the  crucible  of 
the  writer's  soul.  They  leave  the  spectator  with 
the  feeling  that  Eugene  Walter  Is  still  the  dramatic 
journalist  rather  than  the  dramatic  seer.  But  he 
has  shown  a  marked  advance  from  play  to  play,  and 
perhaps  the  next  step  will  bring  him  the  depth  of 
insight  and  the  delicacy  of  touch  which  will  make 
him  equally  the  forceful  playwright  and  the  pene- 
trating artist. 

Percy  Mackaye,  Eugene  Walter,  and  Augustus 
Thomas  are  the  dominating  figures  among  the 
American  playwrights.  Augustus  Thomas  is  an 
older  man  than  the  other  two,  and  has  travelled  a 
more  difficult  road.  He  has  had  to  outgrow  suc- 
cessively the  ideals  of  a  period  of  successful  melo- 
drama writing,  and  those  of  a  period  of  producing 
farce-comedies.  When  he  had  made  his  name  by 
fashioning  a  long  series  of  popular  but  unimportant 
trifles.  Instead  of  being  satisfied  with  his  success  he 


108  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

began  to  realize  the  underlying  seriousness  and  dig- 
nity of  his  art;  he  saw  that  to  be  lastingly  worth 
while  a  play  must  have  a  theme  or  idea  of  solid 
value.  In  his  most  recent  work  he  occasionally  has 
gone  to  the  other  extreme  of  preaching  at  his  audi- 
ence ;  having  seen  the  need  of  driving  home  the  idea, 
he  has  confused  the  methods  of  reaching  their  under- 
standing, and  has  directly  stated  it  to  them  in  words, 
has  preached  to  them — instead  of  making  them 
emotionally  experience  a  story  which  would  carry 
the  same  conviction.  He  seems  not  to  have  realized 
that  the  theatre,  while  it  is  a  great  moral  and  edu- 
cative force  in  the  life  of  the  people,  properly 
stimulates  them  to  thought  by  suggestion  rather  than 
by  statement,  through  emotional  experience  rather 
than  intellectual  understanding.  But  the  hopeful 
thing  is  that  Thomas  is  a  master  of  dialogue  writing 
and  of  dramatic  technique,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
recognizes  the  essential  seriousness  of  his  art.  If 
he  learns  to  weave  his  theme  more  organically  into 
the  story,  he  will  continue  to  hold  a  leading  place 
on  the  American  stage.  Even  as  it  is,  his  "As  a  Man 
Thinks"  is  in  some  respects  closer  to  the  ideals  of 
the  drama  of  sincerity  than  any  other  American 
play. 

Charles  Klein,  though  not  a  native  American,  has 
written  more  plays  dealing  with  the  problems  of 
American  life  than  any  other  dramatist.  From  the 
writing  of  "The  District  Attorney"  to  the  writing  of 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT     109 

"Maggie  Pepper"  he  has  treated  a  series  of  serious 
problems  in  dramas  that  have  been  immensely  pop- 
ular. He  is  generally  known  as  the  most  "success- 
ful" playwright  in  America.  And  yet  this  is  the  man 
who  is  leaving  for  England  to  escape  the  commer- 
cial atmosphere  of  New  York's  dramatic  centre.  He 
has  seen  just  what  the  critics  must  see:  that  he  has 
lost  his  freshness  of  viewpoint  in  his  too  close  con- 
nection with  the  business  side  of  his  profession; 
that  he  has  sacrificed  some  of  his  artistic  sincerity 
to  his  desire  to  make  his  plays  popularly  appeal- 
ing. In  "The  Lion  and  the  Mouse,"  and  "The 
Third  Degree,"  and  "Maggie  Pepper"  there  are 
touches  of  theatricality  and  of  sentimentality  that 
are  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  the  seriousness  of 
the  themes.  Klein  is  deeply  interested  in  the  social, 
political,  and  industrial  forces  of  American  life,  and 
he  is  sincerely  desirous  of  dramatizing  them  seri- 
ously; but  he  has  a  dangerous  knack  of  fashioning 
pretty  and  sweet  romances  that  are  pleasant  rather 
than  deep.  One  can  only  thank  him  for  waking  the 
country  to  the  realization  of  the  value  of  American 
life  as  dramatic  material,  and  wish  him  success  in 
his  attempt  to  regain  sincerity  by  a  change  of 
viewpoint. 

George  Broadhurst  is  another  playwright  who 
chose  a  serious  theme  and  then  failed  to  treat  it 
seriously.  "Bought  and  Paid  For"  was  a  good  and 
gripping  American  play,  as  American  plays  go.    But 


no  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

it  obviously  was  moulded  to  please  the  public,  rather 
than  to  satisfy  a  burning  desire  on  the  author's 
part  to  dramatize  sincerely  and  adequately  a  vital 
problem.  "Comic  relief"  is  a  fine  thing  in  serious 
drama  when  used  as  a  foil  to  tragic  tension.  But 
the  play  leaves  the  impression  that  Broadhurst  has 
made  comic  relief  an  end  instead  of  a  means. 

Many  other  playwrights  have  fallen  into  the  same 
vice  of  beginning  with  a  serious  theme  and  then 
drifting  into  farcical  or  melodramatic  byways. 
Comedy  treatment  is  legitimate  always,  no  matter 
how  serious  the  theme,  but  true  comedy  avoids  the 
exaggeration  of  melodrama  and  the  empty  laughter 
of  farce,  quite  as  rigidly  as  does  true  tragedy.  David 
Belasco  is  one  of  those  playwrights  who  cannot  keep 
clear  the  line  dividing  comedy  and  tragedy  from 
farce  and  melodrama.  His  plays  suffer  from  melo- 
dramatic and  farcical  turns;  and  often  the  core  of 
drama  is  buried  under  a  mass  of  unrelated  natural- 
istic detail.  The  younger  men  who  have  worked 
with  him  necessarily  have  suffered  from  this  taint  of 
theatricality.  Thus  one  may  trace  the  faults  as 
well  as  the  virtues  of  Belascoism  in  the  work  of 
William  C.  DeMille.  His  play  "The  Woman"  is 
a  significant  American  drama  in  the  same  sense  that 
Charles  Klein's  work  is  significant,  but  there  is  an 
underlying  note  of  theatricality:  it  does  not  ring 
true.  Certainly  it  does  not  realize  the  Ideals  of 
the  drama  of  sincerity.    Richard  Walton  Tully  also 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    iii 

collaborated  with  Belasco,  on  "The  Rose  of  the 
Rancho."  The  result  was  a  play  with  a  sweet  story, 
and  characteristic  richness  of  extraneous  detail,  but 
with  the  Belasco  faults.  Unfortunately  Belasco's 
influence  is  to  be  detected  in  the  recent  play  of  Tully's 
sole  authorship,  "The  Bird  of  Paradise."  Starting 
with  a  big  and  serious  theme,  the  dramatist  allowed 
the  interest  to  be  drawn  away  from  it  by  "scenic 
effects"  and  by  a  suggestion  of  theatricality  in  treat- 
ment. But  both  DeMille  and  Tully  are  of  the 
younger  generation  of  playwrights :  they  have  done 
hardly  more  than  their  'prentice  work,  and  may  yet 
write  vital  plays. 

Edward  Knoblauch's  "Kismet"  suffers  from  the 
same  faults  as  "The  Bird  of  Paradise."  The  pro- 
duction is  of  less  value  as  a  drama  than  as  a  spec- 
tacle. It  is  an  interesting  picture  of  Oriental  life 
and  customs,  but  the  play  is  lost  in  the  magnificence 
of  the  setting.  And  yet  Knoblauch  has  a  touch  of 
poetry,  and — if  one  looks  back  to  "The  Faun" — a 
fantastic  turn,  that  American  drama  as  a  whole  sadly 
lacks.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  he  never  will 
contribute  anything  essentially  American  to  the 
national  drama,  since  he  so  long  ago  expatriated 
himself.  He  is  termed  an  English  playwright  almost 
as  often  as  an  American.  In  the  same  way  Chester 
Bailey  Fernald,  author  of  "The  Cat  and  the 
Cherub,"  usually  is  associated  with  the  London 
rather  than  the  New  York  theatres. 


112  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

In  looking  for  the  promising  names  in  any  new 
development  of  art,  it  is  wise  to  give  special  atten- 
tion to  what  the  younger  men  are  doing.  In  a 
search  for  signs  of  the  drama  of  sincerity  in  America, 
two  or  three  of  the  very  young  playwrights  must  be 
taken  into  account.  Edward  Sheldon  especially  gives 
promise  of  wide  achievement.  It  Is  unfortunate, 
perhaps,  that  lately  he  has  cultivated  the  romantic 
charm  and  rather  shallow  sentiment  of  his  first  play, 
"Salvation  Nell,"  instead  of  the  wider  sweep  and 
serious  outlook  of  "The  Nigger."  His  two  plays 
that  are  at  present  being  acted,  "The  High  Road" 
and  "Romance,"  are  graceful  and  interesting  story- 
plays;  but  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  they  are 
deeply  significant  productions,  or  that  they  will  long 
be  remembered.  But  Edward  Sheldon  is  sincere, 
and  he  Is  a  master  of  dramatic  technique;  moreover 
he  Is  independent  and  ambitious  to  strike  into  new 
fields  of  experiment.  Granting  him  increasing 
breadth  of  vision,  he  soon  should  fulfill  the  promise 
contained  In  "The  Nigger."  If  he  makes  as  much 
advance  In  the  coming  ten  years  as  Augustus  Thomas 
and  Eugene  Walter  have  In  the  past  ten,  his  will 
be  a  vital  contribution  to  the  American  theatre. 
Joseph  Medill  Patterson  is  another  of  the  younger 
men  whose  work  probably  will  help  to  establish  the 
note  of  sincerity  In  American  drama.  A  story  has 
gone  the  rounds  of  dramatic  circles  to  the  effect 
that  the  touches  of  theatricality  which  mar  "The 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    113 

Fourth  Estate"  were  infused  during  the  process  of 
popularization  by  "professional"  playwrights,  after 
the  manuscript  left  the  author's  hands.  Certainly 
there  was  in  the  play  a  suggestion  of  seriousness  of 
purpose  that  marks  its  author  as  the  thinker  rather 
than  the  mere  dramatic  reporter.  Charles  Kenyon  is 
another  of  the  very  young  men  to  contribute  seri- 
ously to  the  new  movement.  One  turns  to  his 
"Kindling"  as  one  of  the  most  hopeful  indications 
of  the  new  note  of  truth  and  sincerity  in  American 
drama. 

If  one  could  properly  include  Charles  Rann  Ken- 
nedy in  the  group  of  American  playwrights,  his  name 
would  displace  those  that  have  been  placed  at  the 
top  of  the  list.  For  the  author  of  "The  Servant 
In  the  House"  is  a  greater  dramatist  than  Thomas, 
or  Mackaye,  or  Walter,  or  any  other  of  the  native 
Americans;  and  his  plays  more  closely  approximate 
the  drama  of  sincerity,  the  intensive  idea-play,  than 
those  of  any  other  playwright  working  on  this  side 
of  the  Atlantic.  But  in  no  sense  is  Kennedy  a 
product  of  the  American  theatre,  and  however  glad 
we  may  be  to  have  him  with  us,  we  may  not  claim 
his  achievement  as  part  of  the  American  advance. 

Passing  in  rapid  review  the  plays  of  the  season  of 
1912-1913  in  New  York,  one  must  feel  that  the 
year's  contribution  to  the  body  of  significant  native 
drama  is  small.  Edward  Sheldon's  new  work  was 
interesting,  but  less  Important  than  might  justly  have 


114  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

been  hoped  for.  Eugene  Walter's  "Fine  Feathers" 
was  another  of  his  bits  of  reahsm  without  poetry, 
which  already  have  been  discussed.  "Years  of  Dis- 
cretion" may  be  dismissed  as  a  commonplace,  rather 
than  a  deeply  conceived,  study  of  American  life. 
"Peg  o'  My  Heart"  likewise  may  be  dismissed  be- 
cause it  is  compounded  of  artificiality  and  sentimen- 
tality, owing  Its  effectiveness  to  the  charm  of 
Laurette  Taylor.  The  two  remaining  successes, 
"Within  the  Law"  and  "The  Poor  Little  Rich  Girl," 
are  significant  In  contrasted  ways.  Bayard  Veiller 
confesses  that  he  wrote  "Within  the  Law"  simply 
to  prove  that  he  could  achieve  a  popular  success  by 
lowering  his  standards.  The  result  indicates  two 
things :  that  the  author  is  concerned  with  something 
deeper  than  surface  aspects,  and  when  working  with 
serious  purpose  may  write  truthful  and  vital  plays; 
and  that  the  public  now  prefers  melodrama  dealing 
with  serious  contemporary  problems  to  the  old  sort 
that  left  the  mind  without  the  least  food  for  thought. 
Eleanor  Gates,  In  "The  Poor  Little  Rich  Girl,"  has 
made  a  more  important  contribution  to  the  American 
stage,  because  she  has  brought  to  it  the  note  of 
fantasy  and  the  touch  of  poetry  that  it  so  sorely 
needs.  Her  play  has  a  certain  literary  distinction, 
and  a  fantastic  mingling  of  the  Imaginative  and  the 
real,  that  are  reminiscent  of  Barrle.  And  American 
drama  does  so  need  a  Barrle! 

The  season  as  a  whole  is  a  failure  when  judged 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    115 

by  a  set  standard  of  sincerity  and  truth,  just  as  the 
American  playwright  is  a  failure  when  compared 
with  the  dramatists  of  the  English  School  of  Sin- 
cerity, But  what  a  success  when  compared  with  the 
seasons  of  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago!  The  failure  is 
comparative  only.  The  American  stage  is  far  from 
the  ideal,  but  it  is  progressing  in  rapid  strides  away 
from  its  stagnation  of  other  days. 

Certainly  the  outlook  is  promising.  If  the  lover 
of  the  theatre  is  discouraged  at  times,  when  he 
looks  for  actual  achievement,  at  others  he  must  feel 
a  very  comforting  optimism.  For  he  must  sense 
that  the  time,  in  the  theatre  as  elsewhere,  is  preg- 
nant with  great  quickening  forces.  How  fine  and 
how  beautiful  the  flowering  may  be,  none  of  us  may 
say.  But  if  we  are  alive  to  all  that  is  transpiring  in 
the  playhouse — from  Broadway  to  the  universities, 
and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific — we  cannot  but 
feel  the  strength  of  the  current  of  change  and  of 
progress.  And  if  we  are  concerned  with  the  growth 
of  the  drama  of  sincerity,  we  may  juggle  with  a 
score  of  names  of  promise.  The  group  whose  work 
has  been  discussed,  from  the  men  of  long  experience 
in  the  theatre,  like  Percy  Mackaye  and  Eugene 
Walter,  to  the  comparative  beginners,  like  Charles 
Kenyon  and  Eleanor  Gates,  surely  should  yield  one 
or  two  dramatists  worthy  to  stand  with  the  world's 
finest.  And  if  they  fail  us,  there  are  others  who  may 
step  into  the  front  rank  at  any  moment,  whose  names 


ii6  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

have  not  been  so  much  as  mentioned:  James 
Forbes,  Austin  Strong,  Edward  Locke,  A.  E. 
Thomas,  Rachel  Crothers,  Edwin  Davies  Schoon- 
maker,  John  Corbin,  George  Ade,  George  Bronson- 
Howard,  Channing  Pollock,  George  Middleton. 
Some  of  these  playwrights  have  commercialized  their 
talents  and  pandered  to  the  lower  instincts  of  the 
public;  others  have  as  yet  written  only  plays  that 
are  passively  interesting  rather  than  important; 
others  have  put  their  hands  to  serious,  dignified 
work,  but  are  not  complete  masters  of  their  craft. 
But  somewhere  and  somehow  each  one  has  shown 
a  desire  and  an  effort  to  contribute  to  vital  drama. 
The  American  playwright  has  developed  the  be- 
ginnings of  a  great  drama,  of  an  American  drama 
of  sincerity.  He  has  touched  on  the  surface  out- 
croppings  of  the  rich  mine  of  native  material;  but' 
he  has  not  as  yet  worked  with  the  exquisite  balance 
of  poet  and  dramatic  craftsman — with  high  purpose 
and  the  sense  of  inner  beauty.  In  this  year  of  our 
Lord  nineteen-fourteen,  one  can  only  say  definitely 
that  he  is  progressing;  for  the  rest,  one  may  only 
wait  and  watch  and  pray — and  utter  words  of  en- 
couragement. But  brooding  over  all  the  signs,  one 
need  not  stretch  the  imagination  too  far  to  see  emerg- 
ing out  of  the  future  the  man  of  wide  vision,  the 
poet  who  yet  is  the  perfect  technician,  who  will  weave 
the  material  of  the  time  into  a  gripping  story,  at 


THE  AMERICAN  PLAYWRIGHT    117 

the  same  time  revealing  the  beauty  of  his  own 
imagination.  With  that  figure  in  mind  one  need 
not  weep  too  copiously  over  the  failure  of  the 
American  playwright. 


THE    NEW   STAGE-CRAFT 


THE    NEW   STAGE-CRAFT 

The   modern    revolution    in   the    playhouse    has 
taught  no  more  serviceable  lesson  than  this:  that 
the  written  play  is  only  an  incomplete  expression  of 
the  art  of  the  theatre — that  a  drama  is  only  pro- 
visionally effective  until  it  is  actually  staged.     The 
new  movement  has  brought  a  new  conception  of  the 
totality  of  the  dramatic  production,  of  its  architec- 
tonic nature.     The  art  of  the  theatre  exists  not  in, 
the  text  alone,  or  in  the  acting,  or  in  the  stage  decora-i 
tion,  but  in  the  production  as  a  whole,  with  play^> 
acting  and  setting  bound  together   to   afford  one^ 
harmonious  appeal. 

The  mounting  of  the  play  is  in  a  sense  a  separate 
craft;  but  it  is  a  craft  that  exists  only  for  the  sake 
of  the  larger  art — just  as  the  craft  of  picture-fram- 
ing may  be  said  to  exist  for  painting.  And  except 
in  certain  unusual  forms  of  dramatic  entertainment 
the  setting  has  no  more  positive  function  than  the 
picture  frame. 

The  average  playright  has  come  to  think  of  the 
writing  of  the  play  as  the  whole  art,  considering  the 

121 


122  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

mounting  a  mere  mechanical  after-detail;  the  usual 
stage  "artist"  on  his  side  has  come  to  think  of  the 
stage  setting  as  something  entirely  distinct  from  the 
play,  with  an  independent  appeal  of  its  own.  The 
result  is  that  the  average  production  tends  to  one 
of  two  equally  inartistic  extremes,  as  the  playwright 
or  the  stage  designer  happens  to  have  more  to  do 
with  the  staging.  If  the  will  of  the  former  predom- 
inates the  background  is  negligently  built  up,  becom- 
ing a  tawdry,  out-at-the-elbow  and  down-at-the-heel 
affair;  while  if  the  "artist"  has  the  upper  hand  the 
setting  blossoms  forth  with  a  hundred  compelling 
sorts  of  interest,  not  at  all  as  an  integral  part  of  the 
play  but  as  a  counter-attraction  to  it,  rich  in  pictorial 
effects  and  crowded  with  extraneous  detail. 

Thus  contemporary  play-mounting  tends  to  the 
two  extremes :  negligence  of  setting  and  over-exalta- 
tion of  setting.  In  the  English  and  American  thea- 
tres especially  there  is  very  little  of  that  sort  of 
mounting  which  clothes  the  action  as  a  perfect  gown 
clothes  a  beautiful  woman — in  absolute  harmony 
with  her  special  type  of  beauty,  inconspicuously 
heightening  her  human  loveliness  rather  than  calling 
attention  from  it  to  the  details  of  dress.  The  aver- 
age setting  is  merely  a  shabby  covering  for  the  body 
of  drama,  or  else  a  dress  that  outshines  its  wearer. 

To  understand  the  underlying  fallacies  of  the  or- 
dinary sort  of  stage-craft  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to 
some  first  principles.    In  the  first  place  theatre  pro- 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  123 

duction  is  an  art,  and  is  subject  to  those  general  laws 
that  by  common  agreement  underlie  all  art.  As  a 
work  of  art,  the  specific  production  must  be  charac- 
terized by  seriousness,  by  dignity,  by  unity,  and  by  a 
harmonious  interrelation  of  its  component  parts. 
Therefore  there  must  be  unity  and  harmony  of  play 
and  setting;  the  action  and  its  background  must 
afford  a  single  unified  and  synthetic  appeal  to  the 
spectator.  The  setting  must  be  ia  the  mood  of  the 
play.  ^  ~ 

Again,  it  is  a  first  principle  that  dramatic  art  is 
distinguished  from  the  other  arts  by  its  primary  de- 
pendence upon  action.  The  development  of  the 
playwright's  intended  story,  through  the  figures  on 
the  stage,  is  the  main  thing.  Therefore  the  setting 
should  be  so  designed  that  it  will  concentrate  atten- 
tion on  the  actors  rather  than  distract  it  from  them. 
In  other  words  the  setting  should  be  an  unobtrusive 
background  for  the  action,  rather  than  a  thing  of 
conspicuous  beauty  or  ugliness  that  will  attract 
attention  to  itself. 

The  new  stage-craft  exists  in  the  attempt  to  fit  the 
method  of  presentation  perfectly  to  the  play.  It  is 
embodied  in  the  work  of  Gordon  Craig  and  Max 
Reinhardt  and  Georg  Fuchs  and  Jacques  Rouche, 
and  of  those  others  who  are  courageously  following 
out  their  theories.  These  new  stage-craftsmen  build 
on  the  solid  foundation  of  the  two  fundamental  prin- 
ciples: that  the  setting  must  be  an  integral  part  of 


124  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  play  and  in  harmony  with  the  essential  spirit 
of  the  entire  production;  and  that  it  must  be  unob- 
trusive and  serve  to  concentrate  attention  on  the 
action.  That  is  the  theory  of  their  work  in  its 
baldest  statement.  In  practice  they  attempt  to  carry 
out  these  principles  by  suggestion  rather  than  by 
naturalistic  delineation,  by  simple  design  rather  than 
by  multiplicity  and  Intricacy  of  detail,  by  reticence 
of  touch  rather  than  by  lavlshness. 

Before  following  the  thought  farther,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  digress  for  a  moment  and  divide  the  field  of 
the  new  arts  of  the  theatre,  separating  the  forms  of 
production  to  which  the  new  stage-craft  applies  from 
those  that  are  outside  the  usual  laws  of  dramatic 
art.  For  it  only  too  often  happens  that  when  the 
student  has  gained  a  tentative  understanding  of  the 
new  stage-craft — of  Its  governing  principles  of  har- 
mony, of  unobtruslveness,  of  simplicity  and  sugges- 
tion— he  witnesses  a  performance  of  the  Russian 
Ballet,  for  instance,  that  upsets  every  one  of  these 
principles  in  his  mind.  For  clearly  the  Russian 
Ballet  settings  are  neither  unobtrusive,  nor  simple, 
nor  reticent;  clearly,  too,  this  Is  a  new  art  of  the 
theatre.  The  truth  is  that  the  art  that  Leon  Bakst 
and  his  fellow-countrymen  have  created  is  indeed  a 
part  of  the  revolution  In  the  theatre,  a  protest  against 
the  traditional  conventions  of  the  playhouse — but 
it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  new  stage-craft  as  that 
term  is  generally  understood. 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  125 

In  order  to  dear  away  this  common  initial  con- 
fusion, to  understand  what  distinguishes  the  gor- 
geous and  lavish  Ballet  settings  from  the  interpre- 
tative work  of  Gordon  Craig  and  Max  Reinhardt,  it 
is  necessary  to  strike  back  to  the  differences  between 
the  aims  of  the  creators  of  the  "dance-dramas"  and 
those  of  the  artists  of  the  regular  forms  of  dramatic 
activity.  The  Russian  Ballet  is  one  of  the  forms 
of  art  that  depend  first  and  foremost  upon  outward 
sensuous  appeal,  the  subject-matter  or  story  being 
subordinate  in  interest  to  the  charm  of  color,  move- 
ment and  sound.  The  Russian  Ballet  is  drama  be- 
cause its  thread  of  story  is  expressed  in  action;  but 
it  depends  for  its  effectiveness  less  than  any  other 
form  of  drama  upon  continuity  of  action,  and  not  at 
all  upon  dialogue.  It  is  the  least  dramatic  of  all 
the  arts  of  the  theatre;  it  has  none  of  the  built-up 
suspense,  the  tension,  connoted  in  the  latter-day  use 
of  the  word  "drama."  It  is  designed  merely  to 
intoxicate  the  senses  by  a  synthesis  of  beautiful  set- 
ting, lighting,  dancing  and  music.  It  ravishes  the 
eye  by  beauty  of  color,  line  and  movement,  and 
ravishes  the  ear  by  beauty  of  sympathetic  orches- 
tration. 

In  this  form  of  drama  the  designing  of  the  set- 
ting is  a  part  of  the  actual  imaginative  work  of  the 
artist  of  the  theatre.  The  setting  no  longer  is  a 
mere  background  for  the  action,  subordinate  in  in- 
terest to  the  story  development,  but  a  very  real  part 


126  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  the  art  of  the  creator  of  the  production.  Its 
designing  and  execution  are  not  merely  interpreta- 
tive; not  merely  a  craft,  but  a  living  art,  concerned 
with  the  actual  creation  of  beauty  for  its  own  sake. 
Since  the  dramatist  no  longer  aims  to  concentrate^ 
attention  on  the  action,  the  setting  is  lifted  to  the 
position  of  one  of  the  three  co-ordinate  elements  of" 
the  synthetic  whole. 

With  its  blending  of  the  poetry  of  movement,  and 
seductive  music,  and  beauty  of  line  and  color,  to 
evoke  a  single  sensuous  mood  of  enjoyment,  the 
Russian  Ballet  is  indeed  a  fine  development  of  the- 
atric art.  It  has  brought  the  imaginative  painter 
into  the  theatre,  with  the  painter's  gorgeous  palette 
of  colors  and  the  painter's  sense  of  decorative  line. 
But  the  very  fact  that  the  production  is  conceived 
more  in  the  spirit  of  the  painter  than  in  that  of  the 
dramatist,  precludes  it  from  consideration  with  those 
forms  that  are  more  truly  dramatic.  The  Russian 
Ballet,  and  the  rich  and  colorful  settings  it  has 
brought  forth,  are  not  the  new  art  of  the  theatre, 
and  the  new  stage-craft,  as  generally  understood. 
The  dance-drama  must  take  its  place  with  pure 
spectacle  as  a  form  to  which  the  ordinary  rules  do 
not  apply. 

If,  then,  the  reader  will  at  this  point  make  the 
mental  reservation  that  there  are  certain  forms  of 
aesthetic  drama,  of  productions  of  largely  visual  and 
purely  sensuous  appeal,  to  which  the  new  stage-craft 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  127 

does  not  pertain,  he  will  have  escaped  the  common- 
est and  most  confusing  mistake  in  regard  to  the 
revolution  in  stage  setting. 

Returning  to  the  consideration  of  the  ordinary 
play,  it  should  be  clear  by  contrast  that  it  affords 
very  little  appeal  to  the  eye  and  ear,  but  a  very 
definite  appeal  to  the  inner  emotions.  The  spectator 
is  emotionally  affected  by  succeeding  incidents  of 
character  growth;  and  the  effectiveness  depends 
primarily  upon  continuity  of  action.  It  is  to  this  sort^ 
of  play  that  the  new  stage-craft  applies.  It  aims 
to  provide  a  setting  that  will  not  interrupt  the  all- 
important  action  by  distracting  attention  from  the 
players.  Its  function  is  unobtrusively  to  further  the 
effect  the  playwright  intended,  to  frame  the  play- 
wright's picture  without  setting  up  a  counter-attrac- 
tion, to  add  a  suggestion  of  atmosphere,  of  mood, 
without  interrupting  the  author's  dramatic  design. 
In  this  case  the  work  of  the  stage  setter  is  inter- 
pretative, rather  than  creative.  It  is  less  an  art 
than  a  craft;  less  the  creation  of  an  original  beau- 
tiful picture,  than  a  fashioning  of  a  neutral  back- 
ground for  the  use  of  the  dramatic  artist  in  setting 
off  his  action. 

Approaching  the  theoretical  aspect  from  another 
angle,  it  may  be  said  that  the  old  method  was  to 
leave  nothing  to  the  imagination  of  the  audience, 
while  the  new  method  is  to  leave  everything  possible 
to  the  imagination ;  the  old  method  was  to  create  ma- 


128  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

terial  illusion  by  multiplication  of  naturalistic  detail ; 
the  new  method  is  to  create  imaginative  illusion  by 
simplification  and  symbolic  suggestion. 

In  practice,  how  do  the  new  stage-craftsmen 
achieve  their  ideal  of  imaginative  illusion?  How 
do  they  embody  the  first  two  principles  of  unob- 
trusiveness  and  harmony?  Let  us  see  how  they 
actually  carry  out  the  theories  that  have  been  out- 
lined. 

To  achieve  unobtrusiveness,  the  new  settings  are 
designed  to  be  just  natural  enough  not  to  appear 
overconventional  or  bare,  but  not  naturalistic  enough 
to  excite  comment  upon  their  photographic  exact- 
ness. In  other  words,  the  new  stage  designers  try 
to  avoid  on  the  one  hand  the  distracting  effect  of 
what  is  strikingly  unnatural;  and  on  the  other  the 
disillusioning  effect  of  what  is  patently  a  straining 
after  naturalness. 

The  new  artists  of  the  theatre  have  learned  that 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  unobtrusive  as  quiet 
beauty  and  perfect  taste.  So  their  settings  are  al- 
most invariably  beautiful  in  an  unassuming  way,  or 
at  least  without  a  suggestion  of  bad  taste.  The 
matter  of  taste  in  designing  either  an  indoor  or  an 
outdoor  set  is  primarily  a  matter  of  simplicity  of 
line  and  mass.  To  achieve  a  sense  of  complete- 
ness with  the  greatest  economy  of  means,  to  con- 
ceive the  scene  in  large  unbroken  masses,  against 
which  the  actors  will  stand  out  clearly — that  is  the 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  129 

finest  solution  of  the  problem.  An  artist  can  com- 
bine a  few  lines  and  masses  with  a  minimum  of  ex- 
traneous ornament  and  achieve  a  sense  of  richness 
and  of  satisfying  pattern,  where  another  can  only 
achieve  a  bare  and  commonplace  arrangement  with 
the  same  materials.  The  stage  revolutionists  de- 
mand that  the  designer  of  settings  shall  have  the 
artist's  sense  of  design,  his  reticence  of  touch,  his 
perfect  taste.  The  stage-craftsman  no  longer  can 
be  merely  a  carpenter  or  a  sign  painter;  he  must 
be  a  "decorator"  in  the  finest  sense  of  the  word. 
He  must  have  artistic  insight  enough  to  put  no 
unnecessary  detail  into  his  decorative  composition — 
for  such  the  stage  setting  is — and  to  add  nothing 
merely  "to  fill  space."  He  must  avoid  the  bizarre, 
the  novel,  and  the  extreme;  always  he  must  have 
in  mind  the  two  ideas :  beauty  and  unobtrusiveness. 
The  other  requirement  of  the  perfect  setting  is 
that  it  shall  be  in  harmony  with  the  mood  of  the 
play.  Or,  since  every  element  of  a  work  of  art  has 
its  positive  function,  the  setting  in  a  sense  must  strike 
the  keynote  of  the  production.  There  is  a  moment 
rfter  the  curtain  rises,  and  before  the  action  begins, 
when  the  setting  makes  its  more  or  less  positive  ap- 
peal to  the  audience.  The  average  stage  setter  en- 
deavors so  to  do  his  work  that  in  that  moment  he 
will  get  a  round  of  applause  for  the  "naturalness"  of 
the  scene,  or  for  the  mechanical  wonder  of  its  inven- 
tion.   The  new  stage  craftsmen  in  that  moment  after 


130  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  rising  of  the  curtain  would  make  a  quieter,  inner, 
psychological  appeal.     They  would  have  the  stage 
suggest  subtly  the  underlying  spirit  of  the  play,  have 
it  evoke  the  mood  in  which  the  action  is  conceived. 
By  subconscious   suggestion  they  subtly  carry  the 
impression  that  the  scene  is  to  be  tragedy  or  com- 
edy; with  the  art  that  conceals  the  means,  they  sug- 
gest that  it  is  to  be  an  intimate  picture  of  domestic 
happiness,  or  a  stark  portrayal  of  a  severe  lesson 
of  life.     They  do  it  only  because  they  are  artists 
and  because  they  know  the  laws  of   pictorial  or 
decorative  composition.     By  proper  scale,  and  by 
the  proper  combinations  of  line  and  mass,  any  atmos- 
phere that  the  scene  may  demand  can  be  evoked  in 
the  imagination  of  the  audience.     For  example,  the 
long,  straight,  upright  lines  bring  a  sense  of  majesty, 
nobility,  even  severity;  accentuated  horizontals  carry 
a  feeling  of  restfulness.     A  setting  in  large  scale 
suggests  tragedy ;  a  setting  on  cottage  scale,  intimacy. 
So  the  whole  range  of  pictorial  composition  is  ap- 
plicable to  the  setting  that  is  designed  to  be  sugges- 
tive rather  than  delineative,  decorative  rather  than 
graphic.      The   new   craftsmen   believe    that   these 
things  are  more  important  than  archseological  exact- 
ness or  fidelity  to  material  detail.     By  the  lighting, 
too,  they  suggest  the  mood  of  the  production.     The 
average  theatre-goer  does  not  realize  the  value  of 
lights  as  an  aid  to  emotional  appeal.    Unknown  to 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  131 

him  his  sensibihties  continually  are  being  played  upon 
in  the  theatre  by  the  changing  lights. 

Of  course  there  are  certain  indispensable  furnish- 
ings in  every  setting,  that  are  called  for  by  the 
action.  But  the  new  craftsmen  employ  only  the  indis- 
pensable things.  If  the  play  happens  to  call  for  a 
"period"  setting,  they  do  not  go  to  the  histories  for 
detailed  descriptions  of  the  furnishings  of  the  time, 
nor  do  they  borrow  the  complete  equipment  from  a 
neighboring  museum.  They  believe  that  the  setting 
should  be  the  result  of  an  artist's  spiritual  impres- 
sion of  a  time  and  place,  and  not  the  labored  result 
of  a  teacher's  scholarly  knowledge.  Arthur  Symons 
expressed  just  the  thought,  when  he  spoke  of  Gordon 
Craig's  settings  as  having  "atmosphere  without 
locality."  Archaeological  exactness  appeals  to  the 
historical  interest,  whereas  the  new  artists  of  the 
theatre  are  concerned  only  with  dramatic  interest. 
By  imaginative  and  suggestive  impressionism  they 
create  an  atmosphere  that  merely  intensifies  the 
dramatic  action. 

Before  turning  to  actual  examples  of  settings  in 
the  new  style,  it  is  well  :o  inquire  what  changes  in 
materials  the  change  in  stage-craft  has  necessitated. 
Not  so  very  long  ago  practically  all  stage  sets  were 
made  of  painted  canvas  "flats."  Everything  possi- 
ble was  painted  on  the  cloth — sky,  trees,  exterior  and 
interior  walls,  chimneys,  mantels,  doors,  windows, 
cornices,  and  even  chairs  and  tables.     Recently  the 


132  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

box-set  interior,  in  which  only  the  walls  are  canvas, 
and  in  which  the  actual  furniture  is  placed,  has  been 
adopted  to  a  certain  extent.  But  almost  always  the 
cornices  and  similar  projections  are  painted  on,  in- 
stead of  actually  projecting  from,  the  walls.  One  of 
the  cardinal  rules  of  the  new  stage-craft  is  that  no 
projections  shall  be  painted;  for  painted  perspective 
lines  are  always  conspicuously  out  of  agreement  with 
the  actual  floor  and  furniture  lines,  except  from  one 
point  in  the  auditorium.  And  painted  shadows  al- 
ways noticeably  fail  to  agree  with  the  direction  of 

It  is  impossible,  and  unwise,  entirely  to  eliminate 
canvas  flats  from  the  settings,  because  no  other  ma- 
terial so  easily  makes  up  into  movable  walls.  But  ^ 
such  flats  as  are  used  should  be  painted  in  an  un- 
broken tint,  without  attempting  to  delineate  per- 
spective or  shadows,  and  without  objects  of  any 
sort  whatsoever  painted  upon  them.  The  new  stage- 
craft uses  flats  only  for  interior  and  exterior  walls, 
and  occasionally  for  an  impressionistic  tree  or  back- 
ground seen  in  obscure  light.  Against  these  walls 
such  projections  as  mantels,  cornices,  window  sills, 
and  steps,  are  built  out  in  actual  relief,  thus  having 
their  own  true  perspective  lines  from  every  view- 
point, and  casting  their  true  shadows.  The  few 
necessary  objects  on  the  stage,  such  as  chairs,  tables, 
couches,  vases,  are  seen  "in  the  round."  In  other 
words,   the   new  stage-craft  uses   only  plastic  ma- 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  133 

terlals.  The  few  furnishings  always  are  actually 
there — not  merely  painted  there  with  an  unnatural 
attempt  at  naturalness. 

The  old  style  exterior  setting  always  was  placed 
against  a  "backcloth,"  a  canvas  drop-curtain  that 
usually  was  painted  so  carefully  with  an  intricate 
landscape  scene  that  the  eye  was  very  effectively 
carried  away  from  the  portion  of  the  stage  on  which 
the  actors  appeared.  To  take  the  place  of  the 
painted  back-cloth,  the  "cyclorama-drop"  was  first 
adopted  by  the  new  craftsmen.  More  recently,  in 
a  few  Continental  theatres,  the  new  "cupola-hori- 
zon," or  "sky-dome,"  has  further  improved  the  neu- 
tral background  effect.  In  the  use  of  both  these 
innovations  the  object  is  to  produce  a  background 
which  will  give  the  illusion  of  distance  without  draw- 
ing the  eye  from  the  foreground,  where  the  action 
takes  place.  In  both  the  lights  are  reflected  upon 
a  surface  of  such  texture  that  there  is  merely  an 
effect  of  vibrating  light,  without  a  tangible  thing  to 
attract  the  eye.  The  cupola-horizon  especially  gives 
the  effect  of  infinite  and  intangible  distance.  Like 
the  clear  sky,  it  affords  a  cushion  for  the  eye,  an 
atmospheric  background  that  is  perfectly  natural 
and  absolutely  inconspicuous.  Against  this  the  fore- 
ground is  modeled  in  actual  relief,  and  the  furnish- 
ings, or  properties,  are  shown  in  the  round.  The 
total  effect  is  really  a  great  deal  more  natural  than 
the  most  complicated  efforts  of  the  champions  of 


134  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  naturalistic  setting,  working  with  the  old  equip- 
ment. But  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  new 
artists  do  not  follow  naturalness  for  its  own  sake, 
but  only  as  it  furthers  art.  They  have  simplly 
eliminated  from  their  materials  the  things  that  are 
ridiculously  unnatural:  the  flapping  wings  and  sky- 
borders,  the  painted  perspective  and  painted  shad- 
ows, and  the  old  wrinkled  back-cloth. 

In  turning  to  some  actual  settings  as  realized  by 
the  new  stage-craftsmen,  it  is  necessary  to  remember 
that  each  play  presents  a  new  problem,  and  that 
there  are  no  all-embracing  rules  for  designing  ex- 
teriors or  interiors.  Indeed  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  one  of  the  first  aims  of  the  new  craft  is  that 
each  background  shall  suggest  the  mood  of  its  indi- 
vidual scene.  And  plays  range  from  the  modern 
so-called  realistic  sort,  with  its  rigid  requirements,  to 
poetic  drama,  where  the  imagination  may  be  given 
wide  scope  in  designing  the  settings.  But  through 
all  the  examples,  it  is  hoped,  the  reader  will  recog- 
nize the  underlying  principles  of  unobtrusiveness,  of 
simplicity,  of  suggestion. 

As  an  example  of  a  setting  showing  the  exterior 
of  a  church,  we  may  take  Fritz  Erler's  design  made 
for  a  production  at  the  Munich  Art  Theatre.  A 
single  heavy  pillar  and  a  pointed  arch  stretched  half- 
way across  the  stage  and  ascended  out  of  sight  be- 
hind the  proscenium  arch.  A  standard  holding  a 
number  of  candles  was  placed  before  the  arched 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  135 

opening — the  only  "property"  on  the  entire  stage. 
The  background  was  merely  darkness,  with  no  tangi- 
ble line  or  tone  or  light.  The  figures  of  the  actors 
were  grouped  at  the  foot  of  the  pillar,  and  all  the 
light  concentrated  there.  The  total  effect  was  one 
of  singular  majesty,  of  mystery,  of  solemnity. 
Everything  was  absolutely  simple — but  perfectly 
suggestive  of  the  required  atmosphere.  The  artist 
with  the  simplest  of  means  led  each  spectator  to 
evoke  the  church  and  its  background  from  the  imagi- 
nation. The  average  stage  designer  would  have 
attempted  to  show  the  entire  facade  of  the  church, 
and  probably  a  street  leading  away  from  it  on  one 
side,  with  a  perspective  scene  in  the  background. 
There  would  have  been  acres  of  flapping  canvas 
flats,  and  myriad  distorted  perspective  lines,  and 
nothing  to  suggest  the  nobility  of  the  church  or  the 
mood  of  this  individual  scene.  Is  there  not  a  sig- 
nificant lesson  in  the  comparison?  Is  it  not  clear 
that  noble  architectural  backgrounds  and  wide  open 
spaces  can  be  brought  into  the  theatre  only  by  lead- 
ing the  spectator  to  imagine  them? — that  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  problem,  all  naturalistic  attempts 
to  bring  a  cathedral  or  a  mountainside  within  the 
limits  of  a  stage  setting  must  fail? 

A  second  architectural  setting  in  the  new  style — 
and  one  seen  in  America — was  the  palace  exterior  in 
"Sumurun."  Here  a  flat-tinted  wall,  with  two  pro- 
jections and  several  conventional  windows  and  doors 


136  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

to  break  its  monotony,  rose  from  the  floor  and  out 
of  sight  behind  the  proscenium,  and  extended  off- 
stage to  right  and  left.  There  was  no  need  of  back- 
cloth,  of  wings,  of  sky-borders;  the  one  wall  was  the 
whole  setting.  Against  it  the  actors  stood  out  as 
they  were  intended  to,  conspicuously,  like  statues 
against  a  flat  background.  There  was  nothing  to 
distract  the  attention  from  the  figures;  and  yet,  by 
the  shapes  of  the  windows  and  doors,  and  by  the 
suggestive  coloring,  the  spectator  unconsciously 
gained  the  impression  of  an  exotic,  Oriental  at- 
mosphere. 

A  common  exterior  setting  is  a  garden.  The  old 
method  was  to  set  up  an  elaborate  display  of  beds  of 
actual  flowers  in  the  foreground,  with  the  sides 
bounded  by  "cut-cloths"  of  trees  and  foliage,  and 
with  a  back-cloth  depicting  a  vista  of  other  palpably 
painted  gardens.  There  was  every  sort  of  distracting 
detail  effect  to  draw  the  eye  away  from  the  actors; 
and  seldom  any  of  the  feeling  of  intimate  seclusion 
and  of  quiet  beauty  that  the  true  garden  affords.  The 
new  stage-craftsmen  find  perhaps  their  most  difficult 
problem  in  garden  settings,  because  flowers  and  trees 
are  among  the  objects  most  difllicult  to  convention- 
alize. But  they  solve  it  far  more  satisfyingly  than 
the  adherents  of  naturalism.  Most  often  the  de- 
signer of  the  new  school  will  clear  the  middle-ground 
and  background  of  all  the  usual  clutter,  and  of  all 
perspective  lines,  by  setting  up  a  cyclorama  or  sky- 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  137 

dome,  and  placing  against  it  a  high  garden  wall. 
This  wall — or  trellis,  perhaps — forms  the  heart  of 
the  setting,  and  the  actors  stand  out  from  it  much 
as  they  do  from  the  "sumurun"  palace  exterior.  The 
composition  is  completed  perhaps  by  a  few  pots  with 
flowers,  set  at  just  the  right  points,  or  perhaps  by 
one  or  two  conventionally-cut  trees  in  jardinieres, 
or  even  by  impressionistic  cut-cloths  at  the  sides.  If 
trees  appear  in  the  background,  they  are  of  the 
more  conventional  sorts,  and  rear  their  heads  above 
the  wall  in  impressionistic  masses.  Such  garden  ac- 
cessories as  sundials,  benches,  stairways,  or  garden- 
houses,  often  are  utilized  to  centre  the  interest,  but 
very  sparingly.  In  this  sort  of  background,  as  in 
architectural  settings  and  interiors,  the  new  stage- 
craft deals  as  far  as  possible  in  large  simple  masses. 
Interior  settings  put  fewer  difficulties  in  the  path 
of  the  new  craftsmen,  because  everything  already 
is  made  up  of  conventional  lines.  There  are  no 
broad  sky  spaces  to  be  suggested,  and  no  trees  to  be 
coaxed  into  impressionistic  masses.  Everything  is 
conventionalized  to  a  certain  extent,  and  the  prob- 
lem becomes  chiefly  one  of  simplification  by  elimina- 
tion of  unessentials,  and  of  tasteful  general  design. 
The  question  is  how  to  combine  the  wall  spaces  and 
openings,  and  how  to  choose  the  furnishings,  to  best 
suggest  the  desired  mood.  Three  things  are  prac- 
tically unanimously  agreed  upon  by  the  new  crafts- 
men: first,  that  the  doorways  should  not  reveal  other 


138  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

furnished  rooms  beyond  that  in  which  the  action  is 
progressing,  and  that  windows  should  not  open  on 
detailed  street  scenes  or  landscapes — for  whenever 
the  eye  is  carried  through  the  opening  to  something 
beyond,  the  attention  is  called  away  from  the  actors; 
second,  that  the  wall  spaces  should  be  unbroken 
masses  as  far  as  possible;  and  third,  that  every  un- 
essential piece  of  furniture  or  ornament  should  be 
discarded. 

For  the  average  historical  or  poetic  setting,  for  a 
throne-room,  a  palace  chamber,  or  a  banquet  hall, 
the  new  artists  are  very  likely  to  set  up  a  back- 
ground of  heavy  hangings,  with  perhaps  a  pillar  on 
each  side,  against  which  the  figures  and  the  few 
pieces  of  furniture  stand  out  in  brilliant  relief. 
There  is  no  attempt  at  painful  accuracy  of  historical 
detail,  no  transplanting  of  a  museum  room  to  the 
stage.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  four-fifths  of  the  interior 
scenes  in  Shakespeare's  stageable  plays  would  be 
more  effective  if  acted  against  simple  undecorated 
hangings  than  as  now  played  in  distractingly  "real- 
istic" settings.  It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  atmos- 
pheric backgrounds  that  each  spectator  has  imagined 
for  himself  in  reading  the  plays;  and  only  by  effac- 
ing himself  as  far  as  possible,  and  subtly  suggest- 
ing mood,  can  the  stage  setter  mount  Shakespeare 
with  any  approach  to  adequate  effect.  So  we  find 
Gordon  Craig  producing  "Hamlet"  at  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre  with  no  other  scenery  than  a  series  of 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  139 

cream-colored  screens  of  varying  shapes  and  sizes, 
placed  in  differing  combinations  and  bathed  in  chang- 
ing lights,  to  suggest  the  various  moods  and  atmos- 
pheres; and  In  a  German  theatre  we  see  the  banquet 
scene  in  "Macbeth"  staged  before  absolutely  bare 
walls;  and  we  find  most  of  the  new  artists  suggest- 
ing the  appropriate  richness  of  the  several  throne- 
rooms  merely  by  the  rich  texture  of  the  simple 
hangings. 

In  the  setting  for  a  play  whose  action  passes  in  a 
modern  house,  the  designer  can  arrange  an  Interior 
that  will  be  quite  as  satisfying  in  Its  way  as  the  more 
imaginative  throne-rooms  and  banquet  halls  and 
queens'  chambers  of  poetic  and  historical  drama. 
By  the  exercise  of  perfect  taste  in  design  and  ar- 
rangement; by  careful  attention  to  all  those  details 
of  scale  and  proportion,  of  height  of  ceiling  and 
placing  of  openings,  that  have  a  subconscious  effect 
on  the  spectator;  and  by  the  exercise  of  a  rigid  selec- 
tive sense  in  choosing  the  furnishings,  he  can  make 
the  modern  interior  harmonize  with  the  spirit  of  the 
play  and  unobtrusively  heighten  the  mood.  As  a 
general  rule  his  task  is  one  of  simplification.  The 
most  unobtrusive  thing  is  the  ordinary  tasteful  room 
stripped  of  Its  unessential  details.  The  designer 
must  keep  the  main  wall  spaces  as  unbroken  as  pos- 
sible, so  that  the  action  will  not  be  lost  in  the  in- 
tricacy of  the  background;  and  he  must  not  fall  prey 
to  the  desire  to  add  this  touch  or  that  just  because 


140  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

it  is  "natural."  Beyond  that  his  task  is  only  the 
exercise  of  such  artistic  judgment  as  he  might  use  in 
designing  and  furnishing  a  room  in  his  own  house. 
Among  the  finest  examples  of  settings  of  this  kind 
are  those  used  by  Japanese  actors  in  some  recent 
productions  of  Ibsen  in  Tokio.  It  is  interesting  to 
see  how  the  Japanese  have  exercised  their  native 
tastefulness,  and  shown  their  realization  of  the  value 
of  bare  spaces.  Their  achievement  of  absolutely 
simple  but  satisfying  rooms  is  a  fine  contrast  to  the 
average  Occidental  parallel. 

In  the  experiments  that  have  resulted  in  the  new 
stage-craft,  certain  simplifying  devices  and  systems 
of  setting  have  been  invented.  Gordon  Craig  has 
perfected  a  screen  arrangement  that  promises  much 
for  the  simplification  of  the  problems  of  staging.  He 
makes  a  series  of  flexible  folding  screens  in  varying 
sizes  and  shapes,  and  by  the  proper  combinations  can 
suggest  all  the  atmospheres  demanded  by  the  various 
sorts  of  dramatic  scenes.  The  screens  are  easily  and 
quickly  handled,  unlike  the  usual  stage  equipment, 
and  interfere  less  with  the  lighting. 

Certain  Continental  theatres  have  used  combina- 
tions of  hangings  and  architectural  motives,  that 
may,  with  slight  changes  in  arrangement,  be  made  to 
suggest  in  succession  the  aspects  of  several  different 
rooms  or  places.  Thus  the  first  scene  of  the  play 
may  call  for  a  throne-room;  the  throne  and  a  few 
chairs  are  set  before  hanging  curtains  stretched  be- 


■'  otVsvv\7 


THE  NEW  STAGE'CRAFT 

The  upper  picture  is  of  an  interior  setting  of  a  more  or 
less  modern  atmosphere,  designed  by  Emil  Orlik  for  one  of 
Max  Reinhardt' s  productions.  It  illustrates  the  absolute 
simplicity  and  perfect  taste  of  the  best  German  stage- 
craft. 

The  lower  photograph  is  of  a  scene  in  Granville 
Barker  s  production  of  "  Twelfth  Night,''  designed  by 
Norman  Wilkinson  and  A.  Rothenstein.  It  is  repre- 
sentative of  the  best  staging  being  done  in  England,  and 
illustrates  especially  the  decorative  effectiveness  of  colorful 
costumes  against  plastic  backgrounds  designed  in  large 
mass. 

{The  upper  photograph  is  used  by  courtesy  of  Erich 
Reiss,  Berlin;  the  lozver  by  courtesy  of  the  Daily  Mirror 
Studios,  London.) 


l:  Ui.~  M'rrcrSlujLioi 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  141 

tween  two  high  columns.  The  next  scene  may  be 
on  a  terrace;  the  throne  and  chairs  are  removed  and 
the  curtains  drawn  back,  and  the  spectator  looks  out 
between  the  columns  to  an  outdoor  terrace  where  the 
action  takes  place,  and  to  the  infinite  blue  sky  beyond, 
as  suggestively  realized  in  the  "cupola-horizon." 
The  third  scene  may  be  a  banquet  hall;  curtains  are 
dropped  at  the  back  of  the  terrace  and  it  becomes 
a  room  which  needs  only  the  furnishing  of  table 
and  chairs  to  complete  the  illusion.  The  secret  of 
the  effectiveness  of  thk  sort  of  setting  rests  in  the 
strict  economy  of  means,  and  in  the  perfect  accent- 
uation of  the  one  or  two  decorative  details.  Inci- 
dentally it  may  be  added  that  this  method  of  staging 
is  not  only  more  satisfying  to  the  audience  than  the 
old,  but  is  a  great  deal  less  expensive. 

The  double  proscenium  arch,  the  adjustable  pro- 
scenium, and  the  revolving  stage  are  other  inventions 
for  simplifying  or  expediting  the  work  of  stage 
mounting,  on  the  technical  side.^  In  stage  illumina- 
tion the  new  Fortuny  lighting  system  is  a  long  step 
forward.  It  affords  an  atmospheric  enveloping 
light,  as  contrasted  with  the  old  direct  light  that 
always  struck  the  objects  on  the  stage.  It  is  used  in 
conjunction  with  direct  illumination,  or  alone,  and 
promises  to  do  away  with  the  unnatural  and  inar- 
tistic footlight.     The  mounting  of  plays  in  the  new 

^  For   description  of  these   features  see  the  essay  on  theatre 
architecture. 


142  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

style  Is  dependent  even  more  than  the  old  upon 
the  flexibility  of  the  lighting  system,  and  upon  the 
ability  of  the  stage  electrician.  So  the  perfecting 
of  the  Fortuny  system  must  be  considered  an  impor- 
tant factor  in  the  development  of  the  new  craft. 

It  remains  only  to  tell  who  are  the  artists  and 
craftsmen  who  have  paved  the  way  for  the  revolu- 
tion in  stage  production.  Of  course  Gordon  Craig 
was  the  first  of  the  pioneers  in  the  movement.  A 
great  deal  of  the  confusion  and  the  misunderstanding 
that  surround  his  work  is  due  to  the  many  direc- 
tions of  his  experiments  and  achievements.  Aside 
from  his  service  to  the  regular  drama  by  reform  of 
setting,  he  has  practically  created,  or  recreated,  the 
mimo-drama,  as  exampled  both  in  his  marionette 
theatre  and  in  the  wordless  drama  of  living  actors. 
But  those  arts  are  outside  the  scope  of  our  Inquiry 
into  stage-craft.  What  is  important  Is  that  Craig 
first  showed,  by  actual  experiment  and  in  his  writings, 
the  futility  of  the  naturalistic  setting,  and  the  value 
of  suggestion.  He  passed  through  successive  stages, 
of  using  only  hangings,  of  architectural  backgrounds, 
and  of  primary  dependence  upon  the  beauty  and 
mystery  of  lights;  but  through  It  all  was  the  refresh- 
ing quality  of  simplicity,  and  the  aim  of  Imaginative 
suggestion  rather  than  material  delineation.  He  was 
one  of  the  first  artists  to  point  out  that  scenery 
with  painted  perspective  and  painted  shadows  was 
impossible  artistically;  and  he  was  one  of  the  first 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  143 

to  revolt  against  the  use  of  footlights.  The  latest 
development  of  his  stage-craft  Is  the  new  folding- 
screen  setting,  that  can  be  used  more  expeditiously, 
with  less  expense,  and  with  closer  regard  to  the 
playwright's  atmospheric  intent,  than  almost  any 
other  of  the  new  systems.  It  fails  only  when  the 
demands  of  the  setting  approach  realism,  as  in  mod- 
ern social  drama.  Craig  does  not  recognize  the 
realistic  play  as  drama,  being  concerned  alone  with 
poetic  drama.  Nevertheless  the  underlying  theory 
of  his  stage-craft,  of  simplicity,  concentration,  and 
suggestion,  applies  almost  as  readily  to  the  realistic 
setting,  even  if  his  actual  devices  do  not;  and  to  him 
the  theatre  owes  much  of  the  credit  for  reform  in 
mounting  both  sorts  of  drama. 

Next  to  Gordon  Craig,  Max  Reinhardt  is  the 
best  known  of  the  secessionists  from  the  regular 
theatre.  He  followed  out  Craig's  theories  even 
more  energetically  than  Craig  himself,  and  brought 
the  new  stage-craft  into  the  commercial  theatre. 
He  is  not  an  artist,  but  a  director  with  a  genius  for 
organization,  and  for  calling  out  the  best  in  his 
helpers.  In  staging  his  plays  he  has  been  aided  by 
a  number  of  well-known  German  designers,  most 
notably  Emil  Orllk,  Ernst  Stern,  Ludwig  von  Hof- 
mann,  and  Carl  Czeschka.  They  have  designed  set- 
tings that  have  spread  the  gospel  of  the  new  stage- 
craft through  many  countries.  Their  work  usually 
is  characterized  by  a  massive  simplicity,  a  reliance 


144  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

on  imaginative  suggestion,  and  a  remarkable  feel- 
ing for  color.  In  Max  Reinhardt's  theatres  the 
new  stage-craft  has  not  been  limited  to  the  staging 
of  poetic  or  historical  drama,  but  has  been  applied 
effectively  to  the  mounting  of  plays  of  the  contem- 
porary schools.  He  has  successfully  shown  that  the 
so-called  "realistic"  setting — the  setting  that  strains 
after  naturalistic  detail — is  not  a  help  but  a  hin- 
drance to  the  realistic  play.  In  the  realistic  as  in 
the  poetic  drama,  the  play  is  the  thing — and  the 
setting  merely  a  background  or  frame. 

Georg  Fuchs,  of  the  Munich  Art  Theatre,  stands 
with  Reinhardt  as  a  leader  among  the  reformers  of 
the  German  theatre.  His  work  has  been  less  spec- 
tacular than  Reinhardt's,  but  none  the  less  effective. 
In  addition  to  insisting  that  the  setting  must  be  a 
mere  background  for  the  action,  and  in  harmony 
with  the  spirit  of  the  production,  he  puts  great  stress 
upon  the  value  of  an  intimate  relation  between 
audience  and  players.  With  his  artist  co-worker  and 
collaborator,  Fritz  Erler,  he  has  realized  most  per- 
fectly the  aims  of  the  "relief-theatre."  The  relief- 
theatre  idea  is  to  concentrate  all  attention  upon  the 
actors  by  making  them  stand  out  clearly  from  the 
background,  to  bring  the  actors  close  to  the  audience, 
and  to  accentuate  the  decorative  value  of  the  mov- 
ing figures.  Thus  one  finds  that  the  Munich  Art 
Theatre  has  a  very  shallow  stage;  the  settings  are 
very  flat,  and  the  coloring  is  neutral  in  tone ;  and  the 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  145 

actors  stand  out,  close  to  the  audience,  like  the  fig- 
ures in  a  bas-rehef  panel. 

So  many  German  artists  have  turned  to  the 
theatre,  and  are  practising  the  new  stage-craft,  at  the 
several  art  theatres,  or  the  endowed  theatres,  or  even 
in  the  more  commercial  playhouses,  that  individual 
treatment  of  their  work  is  impossible.  But  at  least 
mention  must  be  made  of  Eduard  Sturm,  Ottomar 
Starke,  Knut  Strom  and  Rochus  Gliese,  Heinrich 
Lefler,  and  Karl  Walser.  Some  of  these  men  occa- 
sionally overdo  the  decorativeness  of  the  setting,  as 
several  of  the  Russians  have  done;  but  generally 
their  work  is  of  the  new  stage-craft  in  its  best  form. 
It  must  be  added  that  the  German  stage-decorator 
works  with  an  equipment  that  is  far  superior  to  that 
of  the  average  theatre  of  other  countries.  With  only 
one  or  two  exceptions,  the  theatres  of  England  and 
America  are  twenty  years  behind  those  of  Germany 
in  stage  equipment.  A  German  architect.  Professor 
Max  Littmann,  probably  deserves  more  credit  than 
any  other  one  man  for  the  spread  of  revolutionary 
ideas  in  stage  construction.  In  his  many  theatre 
buildings  he  has  insisted  not  only  that  the  facades 
and  auditorium  must  be  distinguished  by  dignity  and 
sincerity  and  quiet  beauty,  but  that  the  stage  must  be 
equipped  with  the  newest  devices  for  setting  and 
lighting.  Meanwhile  the  English  and  American 
managers  entrust  their  theatre  building  to  architects 
of  the  tinsel  and  gilt  period,  whose  ideas  of  stage 


146  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

equipment   seemingly   go   back   to    the   fifties   and 
sixties. 

When  one  looks  over  the  field  outside  of  Germany, 
one  finds  scattered  directors  and  designers  who  are 
practising  the  new  stage-craft,  according  to  their 
varying  abilities  and  their  varying  interpretations 
of  the  principles  of  simplicity  and  suggestion. 
Adolphe  Appia  perhaps  should  have  been  mentioned 
close  to  Gordon  Craig  as  one  of  the  pioneers.  His 
idea  was  to  displace  naturalism  by  suggestion,  but 
he  chose  to  work  more  with  the  mystery  of  lights 
than  with  the  actual  settings.  His  experiments  with 
figures  in  silhouette  against  backgrounds  of  changing 
lights  were  among  the  most  interesting  and  most 
valuable  of  the  beginnings  of  the  new  stage-craft. 
Jacques  Rouche  has  experimented  for  many  years 
at  his  theatre  In  Paris,  calling  in  many  French 
artists  to  aid  him  in  stage  design.  His  work  fol- 
lows very  closely  that  of  Craig  and  Relnhardt  and 
Fuchs.  In  Budapest,  Alexander  Hevesi  has  been 
successful  in  introducing  the  new  style.  In  Russia, 
Constantin  Stanislavsky,  of  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre,  has  been  active  in  furthering  the  aims  of 
the  new  stage  art.  He  made  the  unusual  and  notable 
production  of  "The  Blue  Bird"  with  Egoroff's  imagi- 
native designs;  and  it  was  he  who  took  Gordon 
Craig  to  Moscow  to  direct  a  memorable  production 
of  "Hamlet."  The  other  Russians  whose  names  are 
most  often   heard,   Bakst,   Benols,   Roerlch,   Boris 


THE  NEW  STAGE-CRAFT  147 

Anisfeld,  and  Golovlne,  are  concerned  less  with 
staging  plays  against  simple  and  unobtrusive  back- 
grounds than  with  the  creation  of  productions  in 
which  the  setting  has  a  very  compelling  part  in  the 
total  effect,  as  in  the  Russian  Ballet. 

In  England,  Granville  Barker  has  produced  two 
Shakespearean  plays  in  settings  designed  by  Albert 
Rothenstein  and  Norman  Wilkinson,  following  more 
or  less  closely  the  new  German  standards — which, 
indeed,  were  first  derived  from  the  work  of  the 
Englishman,  Gordon  Craig.  But  Gordon  Craig  has 
not  yet  been  afforded  a  chance  in  England  to  show 
what  his  art  is  capable  of  in  its  perfection.  At 
the  Abbey  Theatre,  Dublin,  his  new  screen  settings 
have  been  used  effectively  in  poetic  drama  by  the 
Irish  Players. 

In  the  regular  American  theatres  such  plays  as 
have  been  produced  In  the  new  style  have  been  impor- 
tations. Recently  there  have  been  welcome  signs 
that  two  New  York  managers,  Winthrop  Ames  and 
Arthur  Hopkins,  are  beginning  to  see  the  light.  For 
the  rest,  the  new  stage-craft  In  America  has  been 
exemplified  only  In  the  experiments  at  the  univer- 
sities and  in  the  *'toy"  theatres. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  new  stage-craft.  That 
it  is  coming — inevitably  coming — the  open-minded 
student  of  the  theatre  cannot  doubt.  With  due  re- 
gard to  the  views  of  Sir  Beerbohm  Tree  and  of 
David  Belasco,  it  is  the  natural  way  of  mounting  a 


148  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

play,  as  well  as  the  artistic  way.  In  its  primary  aim 
of  creating  an  unobtrusive  background  for  the  action, 
it  applies  to  all  productions  wherein  "the  play's  the 
thing."  In  its  more  imaginative  forms  it  is  the 
most  beautiful  mounting  of  the  poetic  drama.  Its 
principles  of  simplification,  of  concentration,  and  of 
suggestion  to  the  subconscious  faculties  of  the  spec- 
tator, apply  quite  as  readily  to  the  modern  realistic 
drama. 

In  its  achievement  up  to  this  time,  the  new  stage- 
craft forms  the  definite  beginning  of  a  complete 
revolution  in  play-mounting.  The  only  ones  who 
cannot  see  it  are  the  business  men  and  the  sign 
painters  who  unfortunately  control  the  great  ma- 
jority of  theatres.  But  we  may  be  very  sure  that  in 
time  art  will  conquer  even  them.  For  any  new  mani- 
festation of  beauty  and  truth  ultimately  is  accepted 
by  art-loving  peoples;  and  its  acceptance  is  not  far 
distant  when  such  protagonists  as  Gordon  Craig 
and  Max  Reinhardt  and  Georg  Fuchs  are  pushing 
its  claims. 


VI 


THE  FAILURE  OF  THE  AMERICAN 
PRODUCER 


THE   FAILURE  OF  THE  AMERICAN 
PRODUCER 

When  the  so-called  artists  of  the  seventies  and 
eighties  were  crowding  imagination  and  beauty  out 
of  the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture,  aiming  futilely 
at  a  literal  transcript  of  the  surface  aspects  of  life 
or  sentimentalizing  over  its  prettinesses,  the  art  or 
craft  of  stage  production  naturally  developed  along 
the  parallel  line  of  unimaginative  realism.  But 
when  American  art  began  to  respond  to  the  quicken- 
ing forces  of  American  life,  while  the  painter  and  the 
sculptor  and  the  architect  felt  the  call  of  beauty,  and 
brought  back  the  spiritual  or  poetic  qualities  to  their 
arts,  the  man  of  the  theatre  continued  unperturbed 
in  the  pursuit  of  photographic  accuracy  and  natural- 
istic detail.  So  it  happens  that  to-day  the  average 
American  dramatic  production  is  very  similar  to  the 
paintings  of  our  "tight"  period,  and  to  the  sculpture 
of  our  iron-stag  and  painted-Indian  days — but  with 
this  difference:  that  nowhere  in  the  history  of  the 
other  arts  is  there  a  parallel  to  the  present-day 
theatre  producer's  perfect  realization  of  a  false 
ideal. 

151 


152  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

The  story  of  the  failure  of  the  American  pro- 
ducer is  the  story  of  the  gradual  realization  of  that 
false  ideal,  under  a  conspiracy  of  commercialism 
and  bad  taste.  It  is  a  revelation  of  the  way  of  the 
business  man  and  the  Philistine  in  the  house  of  art. 
It  shows  how  an  art  may  be  sapped  of  all  inner 
beauty  and  truth,  and  still  stand  as  a  hollow  shell 
of  reality,  perfect  in  outer  mechanical  detail,  but 
quite  barren  of  all  that  makes  art  worth  while.  The 
American  producer  has  followed  the  false  gods  of 
naturalism  and  unmeaning  realism  until  he  has  driven 
unity  and  harmony  from  the  American  theatre.  The 
case  against  him  may  be  summed  up  in  two  propo- 
sitions: first,  that  he  has  produced  nearly  every 
American  drama  in  settings  that  distracted  the  eye 
from  the  all-important  action,  destroying  unity  and 
harmony  of  effect;  and  second,  that  he  has  intro- 
duced into  every  production  all  sorts  of  inorganic 
incidents  or  "stunts,"  destroying  the  continuity  of 
action,  and  marring  the  author's  dramatic  design. 

David  Belasco  is  the  arch-apostle  of  naturalism 
in  stage  production,  and  the  acknowledged  leader 
of  American  producers.  He  is  looked  up  to  and 
imitated  by  the  great  majority  of  producers  in  the 
country,  and  so  it  is  not  unfair  to  take  his  work  for 
comment  in  an  arraignment  of  all  his  kind.  With 
no  personal  feeling  against  Mr.  Belasco,  and  with 
full  respect  for  the  service  he  has  rendered  to  the 
American  theatre  in  certain  directions,  the  present 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       153 

writer  wishes  to  take  issue  squarely  with  Belascoism. 
It  is  a  force  that  has  held  undisputed  sway  in  the 
American  theatre  far  too  long. 

Unfortunately  the  Belasco  idea  has  been  studi- 
ously and  successfully  exploited  before  a  public  that 
is  only  too  amiable  in  its  acceptance  of  what  is 
forced  upon  it  with  a  pretense  of  authority.  It  is 
high  time  that  the  false  stage  religion  be  chal- 
lenged, and  the  false  principles  shown  forth  in  con- 
trast with  those  of  true  stage  art.  It  is  worth  while 
to  set  forth  the  Belasco  creed  and  that  of  the  new 
generation  of  stage  artists;  and  then  to  examine  some 
of  Belasco's  productions  in  the  light  of  the  two 
contrasting  sets  of  principles. 

Belasco,  in  a  recent  magazine  essay,  epitomized 
his  creed  in  one  sentence:  "I  believe  in  the  little 
things."  There  one  has  the  key  to  his  whole  method 
\of  artistic  endeavor,  the  secret  of  his  success  and  of 
his  failure.  Belasco  believes  in  the  little  things; 
he  believes  that  if  he  puts  together  enough  little 
details  that  are  "real"  or  "natural" — that  is,  true 
to  the  outer,  material  aspects  of  life — he  can  build 
a  whole  that  will  be  artistically,  or  spiritually,  true 
to  life. 

In  stage  setting,  instead  of  selecting  what  is 
characteristic  and  casting  aside  what  is  unessential, 
he  attempts  to  multiply  accidental  detail  until  he  has 
an  actual  representation  of  nature.  He  leaves 
nothing  to  the  imagination  of  the  spectator.     He 


154  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

aims,  by  accuracy  of  imitation,  to  create  actual 
material  illusion. 

In  the  fashioning  of  the  play  he  aims  to  hold 
the  attention  of  the  audience  by  bringing  together  a 
number  of  entertaining  incidents,  rather  than  by 
creating  a  dramatic  story  of  sustained  interest. 
Throughout  the  whole  production,  in  play  and  in 
setting,  his  method  is  episodic  and  naturalistic,  rather 
than  synthetic  and  suggestive.  He  starts  from  the 
little  things,  and  his  finest  accomplishment  is  in  the 
little  things.    He  is  a  master  of  detail. 

The  contrasting  new  theory  of  stage  production  is 
based  on  the  fundamental  artistic  law  that  art  is  a 
thing  of  vision  and  interpretation  rather  than  of 
imitation,  and  that  unity  of  the  whole  is  quite  as 
important  as  perfection  of  the  several  individual 
parts.  The  new  artists  of  the  theatre  argue  that 
the  literal  transcript  of  fact  is  not  art,  but  mere 
reporting,  like  topographical  drawing  or  historical 
painting.  They  believe  that  the  dramatic  produc- 
tion, like  every  work  of  art,  should  be  conceived  as 
a  whole,  affording  a  single,  complete  impression. 
They  believe  that  unity  and  harmony  are  the  first 
qualities  to  be  sought,  and  they  are  concerned  with 
detail  only  as  it  contributes  to  the  entire  dramatic 
design.  They  believe  that  the  play  should  afford  a 
sustained  appeal,  without  interruption  through  irrele- 
vant touches  of  naturalism  or  inorganic  incidents. 

They  conceive  the  setting  as  a  mere  frame  for 


'■,://.  • 


-v'WT    ,■ 


A   BELASCO   SETTING 

This  photograph  illustrates  a  setting  by  David  BelascOy 
who  up  to  this  time  has  been  generally  considered  the  most 
advanced  of  American  stage  directors.  It  illustrates  that 
very  commendable  quality  of  all  Mr.  Belasco's  work, 
thoroughness.  It  is  taken  from  the  play  in  which  he  most 
nearly  succeeded  in  creating  atmosphere,  with  the  in- 
estimable help  of  David  Warfield;  and  it  marks  the  high- 
est achievement  of  the  naturalistic  method  of  stage  setting. 
Nevertheless,  one  cannot  but  feel  that  this  sort  of  thing 
has  very  little  to  do  with  dramatic  art. 

Note  the  amount  of  detail  in  the  setting — the  painful 
accuracy  with  which  some  tasteless  overcrowded  room  has 
been  imitated;  note  the  ?iumber  of  things  placed  with  the 
one  idea  of  arousing  curiosity  or  drawing  the  interest: 
the  furniture,  the  fioivers,  the  pewter  pots,  the  carefully 
labelled  jars,  the  hats  on  the  hatrack,  the  thermometer  on 
the  post,  the  three  sets  of  curtains,  the  fussy  lamp,  the  ash- 
trays and  telephone  and  handbills  on  the  table,  and  the 
telephone  directory  beneath  {if  your  magnifying-glass  is 
strong  e7iough  you  will  find  that  the  handbills  are  actual 
circus-bills,  doubtless  printed  for  the  occasioji).  All  this 
is  interesting — and  no  one  ever  denies  that  a  Belasco  pro- 
duction is  entertaining.  But  the  point  is  that  the  whole 
thing  is  fragmentary  and  episodic;  a  year  afterward  the 
spectator  remembers  details  of  the  setting  or  action,  but 
has  entirely  forgotten  the  play.  One  sometimes  fancies 
that  Mr.  Belasco  realizes  the  dramatic  inadequacy  of  his 
plays,  and  so  puts  in  a  lot  of  things  to  please  the  children. 
That  is  a  fine  recipe  for  business  success,  but  it  is  not  art. 

Compote  this  setting  with  that  by  Emil  Orlik,  facing 
page  14.0. 

{By  courtesy  of  David  Belasco.) 


^f^^tt 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       155 

the  action,  an  unobtrusive  background  that  will  not 
draw  attention  to  itself  by  the  wonder  of  its  inven- 
tion or  by  its  conspicuous  fidelity  to  actual  life.  In- 
stead of  working,  as  Belasco  does,  with  a  lavish 
hand,  multiplying  unimportant  detail,  they  build  up 
with  reticent  touch,  out  of  the  few  most  character- 
istic and  essential  elements,  a  simplified  suggestion 
of  the  place  of  action.  They  leave  everything  pos- 
sible to  the  imagination  of  the  spectator.  Their 
method  may  be  summed  up  in  a  very  few  words: 
concentration  by  simplification  and  imaginative"! 
suggestion.  ***-^ 

With  the  two  theories  in  mind,  let  us  turn  to 
some  actual  interior  and  exterior  settings  designed 
and  executed  in  the  naturalistic  method.  When 
Belasco  designs  an  interior  setting  for  his  play,  there 
is  hardly  a  square  foot  of  wall  space  that  is  not 
broken  up  by  a  vase,  a  projection,  an  ornament,  or 
what-not.  A  Belasco  room  looks  as  if  the  designer 
had  wandered  about,  after  the  walls  were  set  up, 
with  a  basket  of  "natural"  objects  and  with  an 
irresistible  desire  to  stick  them  up  on  every  bare 
spot.  In  making  a  rapid  review  of  the  settings  in 
recent  Belasco  productions,  it  is  difficult  to  remember 
one  in  which  there  was  the  sense  of  repose  and  of 
unobtrusiveness  that  comes  from  the  skilful  handling 
of  unbroken  lines  and  large  unbroken  masses. 
Belasco's  first  instinct  is  to  "decorate,"  to  destroy 
simplicity  in  a  doubtful  attempt  at  "naturalness." 


156  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

It  may  be  added  parenthetically  that  the  "realism" 
that  so  often  is  connected  with  the  names  of  David 
Belasco  and  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree,  is  not  the 
realism  of  art  at  all,  but  mere  naturalism — the 
attempt  to  imitate  nature  in  her  accidental  surface 
aspects,  and  not  the  attempt  of  the  artist-realist  to 
transfuse  from  life  to  art  the  deeper  and  more  sig- 
nificant reality  of  things.  Belasco's  settings  are 
undeniably  natural;  they  are  perfect  imitations  of  the 
real  rooms  of  tasteless  people,  down  to  the  last 
unimportant  detail.  All  of  us  have  wondered  at  the 
industry  and  the  imitative  genius  of  the  man  who 
could  reproduce  so  accurately  on  the  stage  so  many 
details.  But  has  any  one  of  us  ever  sensed  from  a 
Belasco  setting  the  intimate  home  atmosphere  of  the 
domestic  play,  as  we  have  in  many  amateur  produc- 
tions where  there  was  no  attempt  at  naturalistic 
detail?  Have  we  ever  sensed  the  mood  of  tragedy 
evoked  by  the  exceedingly  simple  backgrounds  of  the 
Irish  Players'  productions? 

In  the  hotel  room  of  "The  Woman,"  in  the  sani- 
tarium rooms  of  "The  Case  of  Becky,"  in  the  living- 
rooms  of  "The  Governor's  Lady"  and  of  "The  Re- 
turn of  Peter  Grimm"  and  of  "Years  of  Discretion," 
the  same  faults  are  evident:  overcrowding,  over- 
elaboration  of  detail,  a  lavishness  that  tends  con- 
tinually to  draw  the  eye  away  from  the  actors.  Cer- 
tainly there  is  in  them  nothing  restful,  nothing  to 
stop  the  eye  unobtrusively  and  turn  it  back  to  the 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       157 

action,  nothing  to  suggest  the  mood  subconsciously, 
nothing  to  intensify  the  spiritual  essence  of  the  pro- 
duction. If  the  setting  has  an  appeal  it  is  to  the 
sense  of  novelty,  to  the  interest  in  mechanical,  ma- 
terial detail,  to  the  superficial  interest  in  photo- 
graphic imitation. 

If  overcrowding  and  a  slavish  adherence  to  natur- 
alistic detail  are  the  primary  faults  of  Belasco's 
interior  settings,  there  is  one  other  that  is  almost 
equally  destructive  of  sustained  dramatic  interest. 
It  has  become  a  favorite  device  to  fit  up  gorgeously 
a  second  room,  opening  from  that  in  which  the  main 
action  is  taking  place,  and,  at  a  favorable  moment, 
to  open  the  door  between,  leaving  the  audience  to 
gaze  through,  and  to  exclaim  at  the  invention  and 
naturalness  of  modern  stage  production.  Similarly 
a  Belasco  window  never  opens  on  a  flat  background 
that  merely  suggests  the  sky  or  a  garden  or  a  building 
wall,  but  always  reveals  outside  a  detailed  land- 
scape scene,  or  an  intricate  architectural  composi- 
tion. If  Belasco  were  an  artist  he  would  realize 
that  whenever  the  eye  is  drawn  through  an  opening, 
either  door  or  window,  away  from  the  room  in 
which  the  actors  are  playing,  there  is  a  definite  inter- 
ruption of  the  action:  the  continuity  of  interest  is 
broken  by  the  temporary  excitement  over  something 
quite  foreign  to  the  matter  of  the  play. 

This  revealing  of  a  completely  furnished  second 
room,  as  well  as  the  delineation  of  a  complete  per- 


158'  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

spective  background  through  the  windows,  is  merely 
the  adding  of  another  "natural"  detail.  But  it  is 
more  destructive  to  the  total  effect  than  any  other, 
because  it  draws  the  attention  farther  away  from  the 
action,  and  more  surely  destroys  concentration  of  in- 
terest. There  must  be  openings  from  stage  rooms, 
but  the  backgrounds  which  they  reveal  should  be  as 
flat,  as  free  from  detail,  and  as  neutral  in  tone,  as 
possible,  if  the  aim  of  the  producer  is  to  make  sus- 
tained dramatic  appeal  to  the  deeper  feelings,  rather 
than  merely  scattered  appeal  to  the  surface  faculties. 
In  interior  settings  Belasco  is  the  most  accom- 
plished of  all  those  who  follow  naturalness  as  a  stage 
religion.  One  might  examine  the  settings  of  nine- 
tenths  of  the  American  producers  and  find  the  same 
faults,  but  not  carried  to  the  same  false  perfection. 
How  many  times  have  we  seen  plays  set  in  drawing- 
rooms,  or  artists'  studios,  or  parlors,  that  were  more 
like  college  students'  rooms,  hung  with  fishnets, 
trophies,  and  trivial  tidbits  of  sentiment  I  The 
simile  is  not  a  bad  one:  we  are  indeed  in  the  college- 
room  stage  of  theatre  setting.  The  sophomoric  wis- 
dom of  our  dramatic  producers  is  reflected  in  almost 
every  Broadway  production,  varying  in  degree  ori1|r 
as  the  producer  happens  to  have  a  genius  for  detail^ 
like  Belasco,  or  merely  an  imitative  faculty,  like 
so  many  of  his  followers.  If  he  is  a  Belasco  he  may 
give  us  at  times  such  a  tour  de  force  as  the  Childs 
Restaurant  scene  of  "The  Governor's  Lady,"  with 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       159 

all  its  distracting  accuracy  of  detail,  or  perhaps  a 
completely  furnished  Colonial  room  (which  should 
be  seen  only  in  a  museum)  ;  but  generally  he  will 
give  us  something  overcrowded,  overdetailed,  and 
with  scattered  points  of  interest,  that  is  both  unbeau- 
tiful  and  unnatural,  without  Belasco's  insinuating 
veneer  of  reality. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  extensively  upon  the 
matter  of  exterior  settings  as  designed  by  the 
American  producer.  They  have  the  same  faults  as 
the  interiors,  though  perhaps  in  more  ridiculous 
measure,  since  it  is  easier  to  throw  a  veil  of  plausi- 
bility over  an  imitation  of  a  room  than  to  give  a 
material  illusion  of  out-of-doors.  One  remembers 
only  too  clearly  the  clutter  of  naturalistic  properties; 
the  trees  that  are  real  in  the  foreground,  canvas 
"cutouts"  in  the  middleground,  and  mere  painted 
semblances  of  trees  in  the  background;  the  buildings 
with  real  doors  and  windows  in  quaking  canvas 
walls;  the  inevitable  well,  if  it  is  a  farm  scene  (and 
the  real  water  that  comes  up  in  a  dry  bucket)  ;  the 
live  horse  protruding  its  head  from  the  stable  door- 
way, if  there  is  any  possible  excuse  for  a  stable;  and 
the  street  scenes  with  their  signs,  their  lamp-posts, 
and  their  depressingly  accurate  representations  of 
the  average  dingy  street-fronts.  And  occasionally 
there  have  been  the  river  and  lake  scenes,  with  boats 
tossing  on  real  water;  and  once  a  real  lettuce-field 
that  caused  no  end  of  wondering  comment.    But  how 


i6o  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

many  outdoor  settings  in  the  American  theatre  can 
we  call  to  mind  that  unobtrusively  struck  the  keynote 
of  the  action,  that  heightened  the  mood  of  the  play 
by  suggestion,  that  formed  a  restful  background  for 
the  all-important  action?  That  sort  of  setting  alone 
is  worth  while  when  one  is  producing  drama  for  the 
sake  of  drama,  and  not  merely  to  entertain,  like  a 
circus,  with  a  series  of  sideshows.  The  trouble  is 
that  the  simple,  restful,  and  suggestive  setting  always 
is  part  of  an  artist's  conception  of  the  whole  pro- 
duction; and  the  American  producers,  from  Belasco 
down,  may  be  fine  naturalists  or  fine  pictorial  his- 
torians, but  are  not  artists. 

Let  us  turn  from  the  settings  to  those  incidents 
that  are  introduced  into  the  action,  presumably  with 
the  idea  of  increasing  the  interest,  but  generally  with 
the  result  of  breaking  the  dramatic  tension.  In  that 
essay  in  which  Belasco  makes  his  confession  of  faith 
in  the  little  things,  he  tells  of  a  cat  that  was  made 
to  walk  across  the  stage  and  stretch  itself  at  a 
certain  point  in  each  performance  of  "Hearts  of 
Oak,"  and  of  a  baby  who  became  animated  always 
at  just  the  right  point  of  the  play.  "That  cat,"  he 
writes,  "was  always  greeted  with  laughter  and  ap- 
plause, and  every  night  brought  down  the  house. 
.  .  .  The  animated  baby  won  the  house  every 
night,  and  both  the  cat  and  the  baby  drew  hundreds 
to  the  theatre."  We  easily  can  believe  him,  and  we 
can  picture  the  spectators  stopping  to  wonder  how 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       i6i 

the  trick  was  accomplished.  But  what  of  the  sus- 
tained mood  that  had  been  built  up  if  the  play  was 
a  real  drama?  Was  it  not  shattered  at  just  the 
point  where  the  audience  gave  its  attention  and 
applause  to  the  cat  and  the  baby? 

In  a  current  Belasco  production,  "The  Woman," 
one  of  the  most  intense  scenes  is  laid  in  a  room  on 
the  upper  floor  of  a  modern  hotel.  The  audience 
has  been  brought  to  a  point  of  almost  breathless  sus- 
pense, in  the  expectation  that  a  certain  character  will 
come  up  to  the  girl  in  the  room.  In  the  midst  of 
this  dramatic  silence  there  is  heard  the  peculiar 
crescendo  squeak  of  a  pneumatic  elevator.  The 
sound  is  wonderfully  imitated.  Invariably  a  rustle 
runs  through  the  audience,  and  almost  every  person 
turns  to  his  neighbor  to  comment  on  the  cleverness 
of  the  trick.  It  is  indeed  remarkable  naturalism, 
and  it  appeals  to  humanity's  desire  for  novelty,  and 
to  its  "vaudeville  sense."  But  in  the  momentary 
interest  in  this  detail,  the  entire  sustained  mood  is 
shattered.  When  the  audience  again  gives  its  atten- 
tion to  the  story  of  the  play,  the  entire  built-up 
dramatic  interest  has  collapsed. 

If  Belasco  would  admit  that  he  is  not  concerned 
with  art,  he  would  knock  every  prop  from  under 
the  arguments  here  advanced.  If  he  is  content  to 
consider  that  he  is  creating  mere  entertainment,  like 
the  circus  or  the  musical  comedy,  or  the  empty  forms 
of  farce — productions  that  belong  to  the  business 


1 62  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  amusement  rather  than  to  the  art  of  the  theatre — 
one  can  have  no  quarrel  with  him  for  introducing 
any  incident  or  effect  that  he  desires.  Or  even  if 
he  is  content  to  have  his  work  classed  with  such 
productions  as  "The  Old  Homestead,"  that  are  little 
more  than  sublimated  vaudeville  shows,  wherein  a 
thread  of  story  is  utilized  as  an  excuse  for  intro- 
ducing singing,  and  anecdote-telling,  and  episodic 
happenings,  without  regard  to  cumulation  of  dra- 
matic interest — then  one  cannot  quarrel  with  his 
method  of  production.  But  Mr.  Belasco  does  not 
admit  that  he  is  working  outside  the  boundaries  of 
the  legitimate  art  of  the  theatre.  Indeed,  one 
gathers  from  his  essays  that  he  believes  that  he  is 
doing  a  very  important  service  to  American  dra- 
matic art.  And  more  than  once  his  work  has  been 
held  up  before  an  admiring  audience  as  the  very 
apotheosis  of  American  achievement  in  the  theatre. 
But  art  that  is  serious  and  unified  and  of  a  certain 
dignity  never  yet  has  been  created  by  combining  such 
inconsequential  and  unrelated  elements  of  entertain- 
ment as  the  stretching  cat  and  the  animated  baby; 
nor  from  any  number  of  such  mechanical  wonders 
as  the  perfect  imitation  of  an  elevator's  squeak. 

The  recent  annals  of  the  American  stage  have 
been  full  of  descriptions  of  such  remarkable  natu- 
ralistic details;  the  clocks  that  struck  the  same  hour 
several  minutes  apart,  as  they  would  in  real  life; 
the  telephone  switchboard  connected  with  the  central 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       163 

office;  the  rainstorm  of  real  water,  falling  from  a 
network  of  shower-bath  tubing;  and  (to  forsake 
Belasco  for  the  moment)  a  real  linotype  machine  in 
actual  operation.  They  all  are  cases  of  immaterial 
accidentals  glorified  to  "stunts"  at  the  expense  of 
the  spiritual  essence  of  the  plays.  The  moment  the 
audience  gave  its  attention  to  any  one  of  them  the 
illusion  was  destroyed,  not  heightened.  It  is  as 
though  a  painter  reproduced  a  detail  in  a  corner  of 
his  painting  so  well  that  it  continually  distracted  all 
attention  from  the  main  work  and  from  its  artistic 
significance. 

There  is  one  other  source  of  distraction  that  only 
too  often  mars  the  average  American  production; 
and  the  producer  is  at  least  negatively  responsible 
for  it,  since  it  should  be  his  duty  to  see  that  nothing 
is  allowed  to  interfere  with  the  interest  in  the  un- 
folding dramatic  story.  Why  the  stars — far  more 
intelligent  people  than  the  producers — should  con- 
tinually overdress,  forgetting  every  canon  of  reti- 
cence and  taste,  is  a  stage  mystery.  Some  of  the 
cheaper  productions  are  little  more  than  parade 
grounds  for  the  latest  styles  in  clothes.  And  even 
the  so-called  "first-class"  productions  suffer  from 
the  parading  of  extreme  or  even  bizarre  creations. 
For  instance,  "Bought  and  Paid  For,"  which  in  some 
respects  approached  so  near  to  real  drama,  was 
marred  by  an  inexcusable  exhibition  of  the  ultra- 
fashionable  in  dress.    It  is  safe  to  say  that  at  several 


1 64  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

points  everyone  in  the  audience  felt  more  interest  in 
certain  beautiful  but  very  noticeable  gowns  than  in 
the  action  of  the  play.  To  bolster  up  plays  of  frank 
artificiality  the  Introduction  of  such  features  may  be 
allowable — anything  Is,  for  that  matter — but  in  a 
drama  of  serious  intent  it  is  distinctly  an  interrup- 
tion :  it  is  not  art. 

Looking  back  over  the  discussion,  of  the  exterior 
and  interior  naturalistic  settings,  of  the  introduced 
irrelevant  incidents,  of  overdressing.  It  should  be 
clear  to  the  reader  that  there  is  one  underlying  fal- 
lacy which  nullifies  the  entire  achievement  of  the 
American  producer:  he  misconceives  the  mission  of 
art  and  the  method  of  the  artist.  For,  after  all,  art 
is  conventional  and  selective,  affording  a  unified  im- 
pression to  the  spectator;  whereas  the  creation  of  the 
American  producer  is  slavishly  imitative,  strained 
and  episodic.  It  is  unnatural  just  to  the  extent  of 
its  straining  after  naturalness;  and  Its  appeal  is 
primarily  that  of  vaudeville.  It  has  sacrificed  the 
imaginative  element,  the  beauty  of  thought,  and  the 
typically  dramatic,  cumulative,  emotional  Interest, 
for  the  superficial  appeal  of  perfectly  imitated  sur- 
face detail,  and  of  unconnected  episode. 

Since  the  productions  of  David  Belasco  have  been 
chosen  almost  exclusively  for  comment,  it  is  only 
fair  to  outline  now  his  real  service  to  the  American 
stage.  For  he  does  stand  head  and  shoulders  above 
most  of  his  fellows,  even  though  he  has  wandered 


MPLE 


'ograph  of  a  throne- 

^ork  stage.     When 

•g  points  of  gilt 

'ntion,  and  the 

'onders  what 

The  eye 

'  columnsy 

vtlessly 

?,  and 

is  of 

'ra- 

e. 


i 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       165 

from  the  true  confines  of  art.  In  the  first  place, 
Belasco  combines  to  a  certain  extent  the  offices  of 
manager,  producer,  playwright,  stage  director,  scene 
designer,  and  electrician.  Belasco's  is  one  of  the 
very  few  theatres  in  which  every  element  of  the 
production  goes  through  the  hands  or  the  mind  of 
one  man.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  one  of 
the  great  needs  of  the  theatre  to-day  is  the  existence 
of  a  number  of  such  all-commanding  directors.  The 
thoroughness  of  Belasco's  work  is  indeed  a  lesson  to 
those  other  producers  who  blindly  delegate  their 
duties  to  a  dozen  individual  workers,  thus  bringing 
forth  a  production  without  co-ordination.  Again,  the 
American  theatre  owes  Belasco  a  debt  for  the  lesson 
of  painstaking  care  which  his  preparation  of  a  play 
affords.  For  Belasco  never  hurries  a  production. 
He  puts  forth  a  very  few  plays  each  year,  and  he 
spares  neither  time  nor  expense  to  make  them  per- 
fect according  to  his  standards.  Their  shortcomings 
mark  simply  the  limits  of  his  artistic  ability;  his 
faults  never  are  those  of  the  managers  who  forever 
are  scrambling  to  get  something  on  the  stage  as 
quickly  and  as  cheaply  as  possible.  Again  Belasco 
has  perfected  certain  mechanical  devices  that  can 
be  used  quite  as  readily  for  artistic  as  for  naturalistic 
effects.  In  lighting,  especially,  he  has  been  able  to 
advance  far  beyond  his  American  fellow-producers. 
His  lighting  methods  and  lighting  effects  are  less 
important  than  those  of  certain  Continental  stage 


1 66  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

artists,  perhaps,  only  because  he  is  concerned  with 
producing  a  natural  light  where  they  seek  chiefly 
a  beautiful  light  or  one  suggestive  of  the  mood  of 
the  action.  And  lastly,  Belasco  served  the  American 
stage  by  developing  the  box  set  interior  to  a  certain 
solidity,  by  discarding  the  old  style  "flat"  set  for  the 
more  satisfying  "plastic"  sort.  In  other  words,  he 
discarded  the  most  ridiculously  unnatural  elements 
of  the  naturalistic  setting.  He  made  the  always  un- 
satisfying naturalistic  setting  as  satisfying  as  it  ever 
can  be. 

Thus  Belasco  has  accomplished  much  for  the 
American  theatre ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  has  nulli- 
fied the  chief  value  of  his  service  by  mistaking  the 
fundamental  principles  of  art.  He  is  the  incom- 
parable mechanician  rather  than  the  man  of  vision, 
the  inventive  genius  rather  than  the  imaginative 
poet.  His  failure  as  a  stage  artist  is  the  more 
pathetic  because  he  sees  the  right  goal,  because  he 
wants  to  create  an  atmosphere.  But  he  tries  to 
accomplish  it  by  an  accurateness  that  is  common- 
place, rather  than  by  a  symbolism  or  a  suggestion 
that  is  beautiful.  He  is  like  a  man  who  finds  the 
right  road  to  his  destination  and  then  walks  in  the 
wrong  direction.  He  describes  his  work  as  the 
poetic  adaptation  of  nature;  but  he  is  constantly 
travelling  away  from  poetry  and  into  prose. 

Belasco  presents  the  spectacle  of  a  man  who  is 
worse  than  his  fellows  only  because  he  has  been  more 


\ 


/  THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       167 

successful  in  realizing  their  ideals.  He  is  a  worse 
offender  in  naturalism  only  because  he  has  arrived 
at  a  more  accurate  perfection;  he  is  a  more  dan- 
gerous force  in  the  American  theatre  because  he  dis- 
guises his  tricks  with  all  the  outer  semblance  of  art; 
he  plans  an  effect  that  is  photographically  natural, 
and  then  leads  up  to  it  as  to  a  dramatic  climax, 
with  the  most  finished  artistry.  Klaw  and  Erlanger, 
or  the  Shuberts,  or  any  one  of  a  score  of  lesser 
producers,  might  have  yielded  the  examples  for  this 
discussion.  Their  settings,  or  at  least  those  that  they 
presumably  direct,  have  all  the  same  strained  natur- 
alism, and  their  ideal  embraces  the  same  episodic 
sort  of  action.  Their  work  differs  from  his  simply 
in  that  it  lacks  the  disguising  gloss,  the  insinuating 
semblance  of  art  by  which  he  has  led  even  discerning 
critics  to  an  acceptance  of  fundamentally  false  pro- 
ductions. In  England,  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree 
has  achieved  a  similar  hollow  success,  and  deserves 
to  stand  with  Belasco  himself — but  that  is  another 
story. 

In  summing  up  the  failure  of  the  American  pro- 
ducer, it  is  necessary  only  to  repeat  a  sentence  from 
the  opening  paragraph :  his  achievement  is  the  per- 
fect realization  of  a  false  ideal. 

Forsaking  the  commercial  producer,  it  is  worth 
while  to  examine  the  signs  that  point  to  an  ultimate 
revolution  of  stage  production  in  America.  For  out- 
side of  New  York  (where  the  entire  progress  in  the 


1 68  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

new  stage-craft  has  been  limited  to  the  work  of  two 
of  the  younger  managers)  there  are  encouraging 
beginnings  of  a  better  era  In  the  staging  of  plays. 
Two  movements  are  chiefly  concerned  In  the  work 
of  redeeming  American  production  from  absolute 
stagnation:  first,  the  growth  of  the  so-called  experi- 
mental or  art  theatres ;  and  second,  the  development 
of  dramatic  departments  and  dramatic  activities  at 
the  universities. 

In  the  experimental  playhouses  the  most  valuable 
work  has  been  done  at  the  Boston  Toy  Theatre  and 
the  Chicago  Little  Theatre.  At  the  Toy  Theatre 
the  plays,  ranging  from  poetic  drama  to  the  most 
realistic  of  modern  drama,  were  staged  by  Living- 
ston Piatt,  who  put  into  practice  the  fundamental 
principles  formulated  by  Gordon  Craig.  While 
modifying  the  Craig  method  according  to  ideas  of 
his  own,  Piatt  has  sought  consistently  to  build  up 
unobtrusive  backgrounds,  gaining  atmospheric  effects 
by  simple  suggestion  rather  than  by  elaborate  detail. 
Very  recently  he  has  staged  some  Shakespearean 
plays  at  the  larger  Castle  Square  Theatre  In  Boston, 
and  In  spite  of  the  limitations  of  equipment,  achieved 
in  certain  scenes  a  very  unusual  success.  In  his  pro- 
ductions of  "The  Comedy  of  Errors"  and  "Julius 
Caesar"  there  were  some  very  Interesting  combina- 
tions of  hangings  and  columns,  that  were  made  to 
serve  adequately  with  slight  changes  for  several 
scenes  of  differing  atmosphere;  and  the  street  scene 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       169 

in  "The  Comedy  of  Errors"  and  the  garden  scene 
in  "Julius  Caesar"  were  such  simple  imaginative 
backgrounds  as  would  have  done  credit  to  any  of 
the  more  advanced  Continental  theatre  designers.  At 
the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  the  staging  has  been 
even  simpler,  the  background  often  consisting  of 
mere  hangings.  Occasionally  the  settings  have  been 
more  elaborate,  creating  atmosphere  or  mood  by 
symbolic  suggestion.  But  never  has  the  aim  been 
mere  imitation  of  nature.  Under  the  direction  of 
Maurice  Browne  the  Little  Theatre  designers  always 
have  worked  as  artists  and  never  as  naturalists  or 
historians.  In  both  the  Toy  Theatre  and  the 
Chicago  Little  Theatre  the  stage  directors  have  ex- 
hibited those  qualities  that  the  American  commercial 
producer  so  sadly  lacks :  good  taste,  reticence  of 
touch,  and  concentration  of  effect.  With  similar 
experimental  theatres  and  stage  societies  just  begin- 
ning their  work  in  a  half  dozen  other  American 
cities,  the  revolutionary  gospel  of  simplicity  and 
good  taste  promises  to  spread  very  rapidly. 

At  the  universities  the  dramatic  renaissance  has 
taken  the  shape  of  revivals  of  plays  of  other  times 
in  their  original  settings,  and  occasionally  the  pro- 
duction of  modern  drama  In  experimental  settings 
based  more  or  less  upon  the  new  stage-craft  as  prac- 
tised in  the  European  art  theatres.  Many  Greek 
plays  have  been  presented,  sometimes  on  the  severely 
bare  Greek  stage,  sometimes  with  partial  concession 


I70  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

to  the  modern  desire  for  scenery,  sometimes  incon- 
gruously in  the  full  mediocrity  of  modern  "stage 
art."  Elizabethan  dramas  have  been  played  before 
backgrounds  that  left  everything  to  the  imagination 
of  the  audience,  and  Miracle  Plays  have  been  pre- 
sented with  only  the  crudest  of  stage  devices  and 
stage  properties.  All  these  productions  have  served 
to  teach  the  younger  generation  of  playwrights  and 
the  younger  generation  of  playgoers  how  inde- 
pendent good  drama  is  of  all  the  clutter  of  the 
usual  commercial  setting.  At  least  one  university. 
Harvard,  has  an  experimental  theatre,  wherein  the 
most  advanced  ideas  of  staging  are  tested.  Re- 
cently the  Harvard  Delta  Upsilon  Society  presented 
"The  Comedy  of  Errors"  in  simple  symbolic  set- 
tings designed  by  Gardner  Hale,  a  student.  The 
production,  inconsequential  as  it  was  in  certain  re- 
spects, nevertheless  was  notably  more  artistic  and 
truer  to  the  spirit  of  the  playwright  than  any  com- 
mercial Shakespearean  production  seen  in  this  coun- 
try. More  recently  a  graduate  student,  Sam  Hume, 
has  been  creating  settings  that  are  among  the  finest 
examples  of  the  new  stage-craft  in  America.  Hume 
had  the  benefit  of  two  years'  work  under  Gordon 
Craig  in  Europe,  and  naturally  follows  out  Craig's 
progressive  ideas,  though  not  slavishly.  Having  had 
experience  in  acting,  scene-designing,  and  directing, 
he  combines,  better  than  any  other  American  per- 
haps, those  abilities  that  Craig  insists  the  true  artist 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       171 

of  the  theatre  must  have.  His  experiments,  both  in 
the  college  theatres  and  in  semi-professional  produc- 
tions in  Boston,  are  bringing  a  new  and  very  refresh- 
ing note  into  the  American  theatre. 

Returning  to  the  more  professional  productions, 
one  finds  that  the  new  stage-craft  has  crept  into 
the  commercial  theatre  to  a  slight  extent.  Win- 
throp  Ames  has  exhibited  an  interest  in  the  simpler 
sort  of  settings,  not  only  recently  at  his  Little 
Theatre  in  New  York,  but  as  far  back  as  the  days 
of  his  directorate  of  the  New  Theatre.  His  produc- 
tions of  the  past  two  years  have  stamped  him  as  the 
most  consistently  artistic  of  the  American  directors, 
though  he  has  yet  to  free  himself  of  the  last  traces 
of  traditional  influence.  A  comparative  newcomer  in 
the  producing  field,  Arthur  Hopkins,  has  presented 
"Evangeline"  with  four  of  the  ten  settings  as  finely 
simple  and  suggestive  as  anything  in  the  European 
theatres.  Among-  the  actors,  William  Faversham 
has  turned  to  the  new  stage-craft,  rather  timidly 
perhaps,  but  with  enough  interest  to  give  promise 
of  better  settings  for  his  future  productions.  Mar- 
garet Anglin  was  one  of  the  first  to  revolt  against  the 
inartistic  naturalism  of  the  average  American  pro- 
duction, and  to  recognize  the  beauty  and  fitness  of 
the  work  of  the  European  secessionists.  Her  pro- 
ductions of  Sophocles'  "Antigone"  and  "Electra"  at 
the  Greek  Theatre  at  Berkeley  were  notable  rever- 
sals  of   all   the   accepted   rules   of   the   American 


172  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

theatre;  and  more  recently  she  has  commissioned 
Livingston  Piatt  to  direct  the  staging  of  her  Shake- 
spearean productions.  When  "Chantecleer"  was 
produced  in  America,  John  W.  Alexander  collabo- 
rated with  J.  Monroe  Hewlett  and  W.  H.  Gilmore 
in  designing  and  executing  some  woodland  settings 
that  were  far  above  the  average,  but  not  so  success- 
ful as  the  still  simpler  work  of  Piatt  and  Hume  and 
Hopkins.  At  the  Boston  Opera  House,  Joseph 
Urban,  an  Austrian  artist,  has  designed  some  beau- 
tiful settings,  that  seem  to  be  based  on  a  combina- 
tion of  the  principles  of  the  new  German  stage- 
craft and  those  of  Leon  Bakst  and  the  other  Rus- 
sians. Some  of  his  backgrounds  have  been  admir- 
ably simple,  and  adaptable  to  every  sort  of  play; 
but  as  a  rule  they  are  conceived  pictorially  rather 
than  decoratively,  and  are  applicable  to  such  mixed 
productions  as  opera  rather  than  to  pure  drama — 
and  so  are  less  important  to  the  progress  of  Ameri- 
can dramatic  art  as  a  whole.  They  are  comparable 
to  the  settings  for  "Boris  Godounov,"  by  the  Rus- 
sian artist  Golovine,  imported  for  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House,  New  York;  they  mark  the  highest 
achievement  in  the  old  style  pictorial  background. 
In  the  commercial  theatre,  too,  we  have  had  occa- 
sionally such  fine  examples  of  the  new  stage  art  as 
the  Reinhardt  production  of  "Sumurun";  but  they 
hardly  deserve  mention  in  an  essay  on  the  American 
producer,   since  plays  and  settings  were  imported 


THE  AMERICAN  PRODUCER       173 

complete  from  Europe.     "The  Yellow  Jacket"  was 
the  exceedingly  rare  exception  to  the  average  rule: 
a  drama  conceived  poetically  and  staged  successfully 
by  Americans.     It  was  a  thing  of  great  imaginative 
beauty — one  of  those  fine  flashes  of  genius  that  some- 
times suddenly  illumine  the  dark  periods  of  an  art. 
The  American  stage  has  outgrown  the  exaggera- 
tion of  action  and  thought  of  melodrama,  but  still 
clings   to  the  sensationalism  of  scenery   and  stage 
mechanism  of  the  ripest  melodrama  days.     Melo- 
drama "insisted  on  the  obvious" — and  passed  with 
other  hollow  phases  of  drama.     But  the  American 
producer  continues  to  pursue  naturalism  in  setting, 
which  is  merely  the  accentuation  of  the  obvious  in 
outward  material  detail.    So  the  American  producer 
has  failed  ignominiously.     In  his  perfection  he  has 
become  just  what  his  false  ideals  would  tend  to  make 
him :  the  great  master  of  unimportant  detail.     The 
next  stage  in  dramatic  progress  will  be  the  passing 
of  the  producer  as  we  know  him — and  with  him 
will  go  the  false  gods  of  naturalism,  of  commercial- 
ism, of  Belascoism.     We  have  seen  how  the  experi- 
mental theatres  and  the  universities  are  training  ar- 
tists to  take  his  place.    Let  us  hope  that  their  success 
merely  will  be  the  brighter  for  his  failure. 


•• 


VII 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  OF  THE  AMERICAN 

THEATRE 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  OF  THE  AMERICAN 

THEATRE 


There  Is  no  other  spot  In  the  world  which  can 
boast  of  so  many  "first-class"  theatres  In  so  small 
an  area  as  that  narrow  belt  In  New  York  City  which 
Is  termed  "Broadway."  Certainly  no  other  Ameri- 
can city  has  shown  a  twentieth  part  of  New  York's 
activity  In  producing  "shows"  and  In  sending  out 
travelling  companies  to  exploit  those  shows.  The 
rest  of  the  country  is  Indeed  so  barren  of  producing 
centres  that  It  Is  generally  known  on  Broadway  by 
the  vague  generic  name  "The  Road."  But  when 
one  is  looking  for  the  real  progress  that  is  being 
made  In  the  American  theatre  to-day,  one  turns  not 
to  Broadway  but  to  "The  Road" — not  only  to  such 
cities  as  Chicago  and  Boston  and  Philadelphia,  but  to 
places  which  the  New  York  manager  probably  does 
not  even  know  by  name :  to  Madison,  Lake  Forest, 
Cambridge,  Carmel,  Wellesley,  and  a  dozen  other 
towns  which  do  not  show  even  as  pin-points  on  the 
maps  of  dramatic  commerce. 

^21 


178  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

Edwin  Bjorkman  recently  explained  conditions  In 
the  professional  theatre  In  an  illuminating  way.  He 
said  that  the  American  theatre  was  organized  as  a 
vast  gambling  business;  and  the  professional  gam- 
bler, he  explained,  Is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
take  a  risk.  So  the  Broadway  producer,  afraid 
above  all  else  to  play  the  game  in  a  new  way,  and 
clinging  tenaciously  to  his  traditional  superstitions 
and  conventions,  repeats  himself  year  In  and  year 
out;  and  New  York  spills  to  the  four  corners  of 
the  country  an  unending  stream  of  musical  comedies, 
and  revues,  and  crook  plays,  and  society  farces.  It 
Is  only  the  very  rare  exception  that  Is  new,  that  Is 
different,  that  is  original.  Thus  the  professional 
theatre  has  set  up  a  false  Ideal  of  commercial  suc- 
cess and  imitation — and  real  progress  does  not  come 
that  way. 
•V  The  true  progress  of  dramatic  art  In  America  is 
coming  In  the  amateur  and  semi-professional  thea- 
tres and  dramatic  societies  which  have  sprung  up  in 
the  last  ten  years,  to  satisfy  a  longing  which  the 
professional  playhouse  entirely  overlooks,  and  as 
a  protest  against  the  commercialization  of  the  regu- 
lar theatre.  These  theatres  and  societies  have  ad- 
vanced far  beyond  the  professional  playhouses  be- 
cause their  Ideal  lies  in  the  realm  of  dramatic  art 
rather  than  of  commercial  success,  and  their  meth- 
ods are  experimental  rather  than  traditional  and  set. 
They  have  held  themselves  free  from  the  conventions 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     179 

and  artificial  standards  of  Broadway,  and  they  have 
pushed  out  into  all  sorts  of  new  fields.  They  have 
not  developed  a  great  American  drama,  and  they 
have  not  freed  the  American  theatre  from  the  in- 
artistic faults  of  setting  and  staging  and  acting  that 
have  all  but  strangled  to  death  whatever  other  drama 
was  brought  to  it.  But  they  deserve  most  of  the 
credit  for  whatever  advance  has  been  made  toward 
either  ideal. 

The  experimental  theatres  may  be  divided  roughly 
into  two  classes.  First  there  are  the  "art"  theatres, 
like  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  and  the  Boston  Toy 
Theatre,  with  which  may  be  grouped  the  many  ama- 
teur and  semi-professional  societies  which  exist  for 
the  occasional  production  of  plays  that  do  not  com- 
monly appear  on  the  commercial  stage.  And  second 
there  are  the  university  and  college  theatres,  the 
student  dramatic  activities  and  the  occasional  re- 
vivals by  professional  actors  of  classic  and  literary 
plays  before  academic  audiences.  It  is  here  that  the 
worldwide  spirit  of  change  is  reflected  in  the  play- 
house, and  it  is  here  that  there  is  freedom  for  ex- 
perimentation. 

The  Chicago  Little  Theatre  is  perhaps  the  most 
typical  "art  theatre"  in  the  country.  From  ama- 
teur material  Maurice  Browne,  the  organizer  and 
director,  has  whipped  into  shape  an  organization 
which  stands  to-day  as  one  of  the  most  vital  expres- 
sions of  the  new  dramatic  spirit  in  America.    During 


i8o  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  first  season  the  productions  ranged  from  Euripi- 
des' "The  Trojan  Women"  to  Strindberg's  "The 
Stronger"  and  "Creditors";  from  William  Butler 
Yeats'  "On  Baile's  Strand"  and  "The  Shadowy  Wa- 
ters" to  Schnltzler's  "Anatol."  The  list  bespeaks 
nothing  if  not  breadth  of  view  and  courage.  And 
these  are  the  qualities  which  the  commercial  producer 
so  completely  and  so  sadly  lacks.  The  Chicago  Lit- 
tle Theatre  tends  to  the  literary  or  poetic  drama, 
rather  than  to  intensive  social  drama;  and  it  has 
produced  literary  plays  that  are  seldom  seen  on  the 
stage  elsewhere,  notably  the  less  dramatic  of  Yeats' 
work  and  Wilfrid  Wilson  Gibson's  "Womenkind" 
and  "The  Ferry."  The  staging  is  designed  accord- 
ing to  the  newest  European  ideas  of  simplicity  and 
suggestion,  and  the  settings  as  a  whole  have  been 
remarkably  successful  in  evoking  the  proper  atmos- 
phere for  the  action.  The  Little  Theatre  company, 
not  content  with  spreading  the  gospel  of  beauty  in 
its  home  city,  has  toured  the  principal  dramatic  cen- 
ters of  the  East,  bringing  a  refreshing  breath  of 
dramatic  sincerity  into  communities  that  usually  see 
nothing  but  the  more  artificial  and  sophisticated  of- 
ferings of  the  commercial  theatre. 

The  Boston  Toy  Theatre  is  very  similar  to  the 
Chicago  Little  Theatre  in  its  aims  and  In  the  breadth 
of  its  field.  The  organization  Is  more  truly  an  ama- 
teur one — its  activities  up  to  this  time  have  taken 
place  in  a  converted  stable — but  it  plans  to  occupy 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     i8i 

soon  a  theatre  of  the  "intimate"  type  in  Boston's 
commercial  playhouse  district.  There  its  organizers 
hope  to  maintain,  for  the  benefit  of  a  considerably 
enlarged  audience,  the  experimental  ideal,  and  the 
catholicity  in  choice  of  plays  which  has  marked  the 
series  of  productions  during  the  first  two  seasons. 
The  Toy  has  produced  some  little  known  American 
dramas;  and  among  its  "discoveries"  in  foreign  fields 
are  such  notable  plays  as  Angel  Guimera's  "Maria 
Rosa."  But  the  Theatre's  most  important  achieve- 
ment, perhaps,  has  been  in  stage  setting.  It  was 
the  Toy  that  gave  to  Livingston  Piatt  the  opportunity 
to  work  out  in  practice  his  advanced  theories  of 
symbolic  and  suggestive  staging.  The  work  of  this 
little  playhouse  really  foreran  a  movement  which 
promises  to  revolutionize  American  stage  decora- 
tion. Already  Mr.  Piatt  has  been  called  from  the 
Toy  to  the  commercial  theatres,  and  already  profes- 
sional playhouses  are  beginning  to  adopt  the  new 
ideal  of  simplicity  and  harmony  in  setting — and  the 
Belasco  naturalism  begins  to  decay.  It  Is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  way  In  which  the  art  theatres  are  build- 
ing for  the  advanced  professional  theatre  of  the 
future. 

The  Chicago  Theatre  Society  was  one  of  the  pio- 
neers In  the  new  movement  In  the  American  theatre. 
It  Is  not  organized  as  a  producing  society;  but  by 
guaranteeing  financial  success  It  has  brought  to  the 
Chicago  Fine  Arts  Theatre  certain  semi-professional 


1 82  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

companies  which  otherwise  could  not  have  ventured 
to  compete  with  the  purely  commercial  attractions. 
During  the  season  of  19 12-19 13  there  appeared 
under  its  auspices  the  Irish  Players  of  the  Abbey 
Theatre,  Dublin;  Miss  Horniman's  remarkable  com- 
pany from  her  repertory  theatre  in  Manchester;  the 
Hull  House  Players;  the  Coburn  Players;  the  "Hin- 
dle  Wakes"  company;  Winthrop  Ames'  production 
of  "Anatol";  and  a  specially  organized  company  of 
professional  players,  headed  by  Edith  Wynne  Mat- 
thison,  in  some  seldom-acted  modern  dramas.  The 
list  of  plays  produced  during  the  season  was  re- 
markable for  the  many  representative  examples  of 
the  work  of  the  new  English  dramatists.  Shaw  was 
represented  by  "Candida"  and  "The  Showing-up  of 
Blanco  Posnet";  Galsworthy  by  "The  Silver  Box," 
"The  Pigeon,"  and  "Justice";  Arnold  Bennett  by 
"What  the  Public  Wants."  There  were  shown  no 
less  than  twenty-two  plays  by  the  Irish  dramatists: 
Synge,  Yeats,  Lady  Gregory,  St.  John  Ervine,  Wil- 
liam Boyle,  T.  C.  Murray,  Rutherford  Mayne,  and 
Lennox  Robinson.  "Hindle  Wakes"  by  Stanley 
Houghton,  "Makeshifts"  by  Elizabeth  Robins, 
"Miles  Dixon"  by  Gilbert  Cannan,  and  "The  Trag- 
edy of  Nan"  by  John  Masefield  were  other  exam- 
ples of  the  modern  intensive  school.  To  these  must 
be  added  three  contemporary  plays  which  seldom 
had  been  staged  before,  Charles  Rann  Kennedy's 
"The  Terrible  Meek"  and  "The  Necessary  Evil," 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     183 

and  Granville  Barker's  "The  Miracle."  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  no  other  city  in  America  had 
so  many  chances  as  Chicago  to  see  what  real  prog- 
ress is  being  made  in  the  English-speaking  theatre; 
and  nowhere  else  did  the  coming  generation  of  play- 
wrights have  similar  opportunity  to  see  how  the  thea- 
tre is  pushing  out  to  new  fields  of  life  and  thought 
for  its  material  and  to  new  methods  of  giving  dra- 
matic pleasure.  The  value  of  such  organizations  as 
the  Chicago  Theatre  Society  to  the  future  of  the 
American  theatre  can  hardly  be  overestimated. 

The  theatre  of  the  Hull  House  Players  is  no  less 
an  experimental  playhouse  than  the  Chicago  Little 
Theatre  and  the  Boston  Toy  Theatre.  But  the  Hull 
House  company  differs  from  almost  all  others  in 
that  its  ideal  is  more  social  and  less  purely  artistic 
than  that  of  the  majority  of  experimental  organiza- 
tions. Acting  and  producing  form  the  recreation 
of  the  players,  and  the  constant  association  in  artis- 
tic endeavor  doubtless  has  meant  much  to  the  devel- 
opment and  happiness  of  each  member  of  the  group. 
And  in  the  choice  of  plays  the  larger  social  element, 
the  humanitarian  note,  is  noticeably  emphasized. 
So  one  finds  that  plays  of  the  type  of  Galsworthy's 
"Justice"  and  "The  Pigeon"  and  Charles  Kenyon's 
"Kindling"  more  often  fill  the  Hull  House  stage 
than  the  more  purely  imaginative  and  literary 
dramas  that  are  material  for  the  art  theatres.  The 
Hull  House  Players  have  served  American  drama, 


1 84  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

too,  by  producing  such  sincere  but  little-known  na- 
tive plays  as  Joseph  Medill  Patterson's  "By-Prod- 
ucts" and  H.  K.  Moderwell's  "Manacles." 

The  art  theatre  movement  is  growing  so  fast  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  keep  a  record  of  all  the 
playhouses  and  organizations  concerned — and  cer- 
tainly it  would  not  be  profitable  to  attempt  to  de- 
scribe each  one  in  detail.  Philadelphia  has  its  Lit- 
tle Theatre,  and  the  Los  Angeles  playhouse  of  the 
same  name  has  just  been  opened,  both  being  designed 
to  do  for  their  respective  cities  what  Maurice 
Browne's  Little  Theatre  is  doing  for  Chicago.  The 
Lake  Forest  Players,  the  "Plays  and  Players"  so- 
ciety of  Philadelphia,  and  the  Forest  Theatre  group 
at  Carmel,  all  are  doing  pioneer  work  in  producing 
"advanced"  drama,  ranging  from  the  seldom-acted 
classics  to  the  'prentice  work  of  native  playwrights. 
The  amateur  stage  societies,  that  give  only  an  occa- 
sional production  and  are  without  theatres  of  their 
own,  are  so  numerous  in  America  that  an  enumera- 
tion would  merely  be  tedious.  And  yet  it  is  from 
organizations  of  this  sort  that  the  Boston  Toy 
Theatre  and  similar  vital  experimental  playhouses 
have  developed,  and  any  one  of  the  dilettante  groups 
may  suddenly  blossom  into  a  significant  producing 
organization  with  its  own  theatre.  At  the  other 
extreme,  competing  with  the  commercial  theatres  to 
a  certain  extent,  there  must  be  mentioned,  as  con- 
tributing vitally  to  the  progress  of  dramatic  art  in 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     185 

America,  the  several  bands  of  open-air  players,  of 
which  Ben  Greet's  company  and  the  Coburn  Players 
are  most  important,  and  the  Drama  Players  of  Don- 
ald Robertson,  who  brought  a  refreshing  breath  into 
the  playhouse  when  the  art  theatre  movement  had 
barely  started. 

A  New  York  man  of  the  theatre,  if  he  happens 
not  to  be  one  of  those  who  impatiently  wave  aside 
all  university  and  art  theatre  activities  as  negligible, 
may  point  with  pride  to  Winthrop  Ames'  Little 
Theatre,  saying  that  after  all  Broadway  has  the 
most  notable  of  American  art  theatres.  In  a  sense 
the  claim  is  a  just  one.  For  nowhere  else  is  the 
average  of  dramatic  merit  higher,  or  the  staging 
more  consistently  artistic.  But  the  New  York  Little 
Theatre  is  not  a  place  for  experiment.  With  its 
extended  "runs,"  its  high  prices  of  admission,  and 
its  business  organization,  it  takes  rank  not  with  the 
amateur  and  experimental  playhouses,  but  with  the 
professional  and  commercial  theatres.  It  does  not 
push  out  into  untried  fields,  seeking  new  methods 
of  creating  dramatic  interest,  and  learning  through 
occasional  failure ;  rather  it  carries  into  the  commer- 
cial theatre  field  what  the  experimental  theatres 
already  have  proved  to  be  worth  while.  Its  value 
lies  not  in  creative  experimentation,  but  in  educating 
a  wider  audience  to  an  appreciation  of  the  true  art 
of  the  theatre.  It  indicates  what  the  American  thea- 
tre may  be  when  the  new  generation  of  playwrights 


1 86  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

and  directors,  which  is  being  trained  in  the  non-pro- 
fessional theatres  and  at  the  universities,  comes  into 
control  of  the  commercial  theatre;  for  it  is  the  first 
Broadway  playhouse  to  be  directed  by  a  man  who  is 
typically  a  product  of  the  new  movement.  Winthrop 
Ames  is  a  graduate  of  Harvard  University,  and  in 
a  very  true  sense  a  graduate  of  the  experimental 
theatre.  In  New  York  City  the  nearest  approach  to 
a  non-commercial  producing  company  is  the  Stage 
Society.  It  has  done  valuable  pioneer  work,  but  its 
activity  has  been  more  limited  than  that  of  similar 
organizations  in  other  cities.  The  Princess  Theatre, 
devoting  itself  to  one-act  plays,  in  the  beginning  gave 
promise  of  valuable  aid  to  American  progress;  but 
since  It  lately  has  turned  to  the  almost  exclusive  pur- 
suit of  "shockers,"  it  has  proved  to  be  a  false  hope. 
The  dramatic  activities  at  the  universities  have 
been  notable  in  two  directions.  In  the  first  place 
there  have  been  a  great  many  revivals,  often  in  the 
original  manner  of  staging,  thus  broadening  the  stu- 
dent's conception  of  the  possibilities  of  the  theatre, 
and  offsetting  in  some  measure  the  commercial  thea- 
tre's tendency  to  resolve  the  drama  to  a  stereotyped 
form.  And,  in  the  second  place,  there  recently  has 
been  a  marked  growth  in  the  number  of  university 
courses  offered  in  dramatic  technique,  with  attendant 
experimental  productions  by  student  playwrights. 
The  proportion  of  names  of  university  graduates  in 
the  list  of  younger  dramatists  to  whom  the  country 


:aMO'i 

ii;iTA3HT  3JTTI 


'\j    jca  .iiVi     r**^ 


V    O^VJiii^.y 


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A  CHRISTMAS  PANTOMIME  AT  THE  CHICAGO 
LITTLE  THEATRE 

This  scene  is  from  a  mimo-drama  presented  at  the 
Chicago  Little  Theatre.  Not  only  was  the  play  wordlesSy 
hut  there  was  no  ^* scenery^^  in  the  accepted  sense  of  the 
word.  The  players  acted  in  darkness^  showing  as 
silhouettes  against  a  curtain  lighted  from  behind.  This 
very  successful  production  was  typical  of  the  valuable 
experimental  work  done  by  the  Little  Theatre  Players 
under  the  direction  of  Maurice  Browne. 

{By  courtesy  of  Eugene  Hutchinson  and  Maurice 
Browne.) 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     187 

looks  for  its  Important  drama  of  tomorrow,  is  suffi- 
cient indication  of  the  value  of  these  courses  to  the 
progress  of  the  American  theatre. 

Harvard  University  has  outstripped  all  others  in 
the  direction  of  original  student  composition.  While 
its  series  of  revivals  of  the  older  drama  has  been  less 
remarkable  than  those  of  several  other  universities, 
its  playwrltlng  activity,  under  the  unusually  able  di- 
rection of  Professor  George  Pierce  Baker,  has  been 
unique.  Professor  Baker  offers  a  two-year  course  in 
dramatic  composition,  the  personnel  of  the  class  be- 
ing decided  by  a  competition  of  original  play  manu- 
scripts. In  connection  with  the  study  of  composition 
and  the  actual  writing  of  the  plays  there  has  devel- 
oped the  "Forty-seven  Workshop"  (which  takes  its 
name  from  the  number  of  the  course),  a  dramatic 
laboratory  in  which  the  students'  plays  are  staged 
and  their  faults  practically  demonstrated.  Plays 
which  are  thus  found  worthy  of  public  production 
may  be  staged  again  by  the  Harvard  Dramatic  Club, 
which  each  year  offers  one  long  play  and  three  one- 
act  plays  by  student  authors.  A  further  outlet  is 
afforded  by  the  Castle  Square  Stock  Theatre  in  Bos- 
ton, which  annually  produces  a  play  by  a  student  of 
Harvard  or  Radcliffe.  The  productions  of  the 
"Workshop"  have  ranged  from  pure  pantomime  to 
the  deepest  psychologic  studies;  and  a  single  Dra- 
matic Club  bill  may  include  a  verse  drama  and  a 
modern  social  play.     To  the  student  of  practical 


1 88  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

playwriting  the  value  of  such  an  experimental  thea- 
tre as  the  "Forty-seven  Worshop"  is  immense. 
There  are  signs  pointing  to  the  establishment  of  such 
dramatic  laboratories  at  half  a  dozen  of  the  leading 
universities.  The  Yale  Dramatic  Association  began 
many  years  ago  to  save  money  for  the  ultimate  build- 
ing of  a  "Yale  Theatre,"  and  now  has  a  very  sub- 
stantial sum  in  hand  for  that  purpose. 

The  activities  at  the  University  of  California  may 
be  taken  as  typical  of  the  work  of  the  universities 
which  have  progressed  chiefly  in  the  direction  of  re- 
vivals and  productions  of  poetic  drama.  The  student 
organizations  have  been  fortunate  in  having  the 
"Greek  Theatre,"  offering  unique  setting  for  revivals 
of  certain  sorts  of  classic  plays.  The  opportunity  to 
stage  adequately  the  works  of  the  famous  Greek 
dramatists  was  too  exceptional  to  be  overlooked. 
The  student  productions  have  included  "The  Birds" 
of  Aristophanes,  the  "Ajax"  of  Sophocles,  and  the 
"Eumenides"  of  i^schylus,  all  in  Greek,  and  in  Eng- 
lish Sophocles'  "CEdipus  Tyrannus."  The  Enghsh 
Club,  the  leading  dramatic  organization,  semi-annu- 
ally produces  a  play  in  the  Greek  Theatre,  and  the 
list  of  past  productions  is  remarkably  wide  and  in- 
teresting. Of  translations  it  includes  such  different 
dramas  as  "The  Little  Clay  Cart"  from  the  Sans- 
krit, Schiller's  "Maria  Stuart,"  and  Ibsen's  "Vikings 
at  Helgeland."  Of  early  English  drama  it  includes 
the  seldom-produced  mystery  play  "Abraham  and 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     189 

Isaac,"   the    Miracle    Play   "Thersytes,"    Dekker's 
"Shoemakers'  Holiday,"  Shakespeare's  "King  Henry 
the  Fifth,"  "The  Winter's  Tale,"  and  "The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,"  and  Ben  Jonson's  masque  "The 
Hue  and  Cry  after  Cupid";  and  of  modern  drama, 
Stephen     Phillips'     "Paolo     and     Francesca"     and 
"Nero,"  Shaw's  "Caesar  and  Cleopatra,"  and  Henry 
Van  Dyke's  "The  House  of  Rimmon."    Aside  from 
the  Greek  Theatre  productions  the  English  Club  has 
brought  forth  several  important  dramas,  of  which 
Alfred  Noyes'   "Sherwood,"  acted  in  a  woodland 
setting,  must  be  specially  mentioned;  and  a  second 
student  club,   "The  Mask  and  Dagger,"  has  pro- 
duced annually  modern  indoor  plays  by  Clyde  Fitch, 
Pinero,  Shaw,  and  other  playwrights  of  the  day.    To 
complete  the  list  of  student  activities,  there  have  been 
the  usual  original  class  plays,  with  the  usual  under- 
graduate   faults,    an   occasional   production   by   the 
French  and  German  clubs,  and  perhaps  most  signifi- 
cant of  all,   the  truly  beautiful   "Partheneia,"  the 
annual  dance-festival  of  the  women  students.    Aside 
from  the  amateur  productions  at  the  university,  the 
Greek  Theatre  has  attracted  professional  companies 
in  plays  that  could  not  be  presented  so  satisfyingly 
anywhere  else;  thus  Margaret  Anglin  has  produced 
"Antigone"  and  "Electra"  with  all  the  severe  beauty 
of  the  drama  reflected  in  the  dignified  architectural 
background;  Sarah  Bernhardt  has  given  a  memo- 
rable  production   of    Racine's    "Phedre";    Maude 


I90  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

Adams  has  played  there  in  Rostand's  "L'Aiglon," 
and  in  an  unusually  elaborate  production  of  "As  You 
Like  It";  and  Ben  Greet's  outdoor  players  have  pre- 
sented "Hamlet"  in  the  complete  version.  Here, 
then,  at  a  single  university,  the  students  have  pro- 
duced Greek  plays  and  French  plays,  Sanskrit  plays 
and  German  plays,  Elizabethan  drama  and  modern 
poetic  drama,  plays  by  Sophocles  and  Shakespeare, 
and  plays  by  Pinero  and  Shaw,  and  even  so-called 
plays  by  undergraduate  authors;  they  have  experi- 
mented with  settings  as  widely  varying  as  the  bare 
Greek  stage,  the  Elizabethan  platform,  and  the  mod- 
ern realistic  interior;  and  they  have  seen  some  of 
the  greatest  of  modern  actors  in  plays  which  never 
appear  on  the  commercial  stage.  That  this  sort  of 
dramatic  education  is  building  a  splendid  foundation 
for  the  coming  American  drama  cannot  for  an  in- 
stant be  doubted.  And  the  fine  thing  is,  not  merely 
that  the  University  of  California  is  doing  these 
things,  but  that  ten  or  twelve  universities  throughout 
the  country  are  carrying  out  equally  vital  dramatic 
experiments. 

Aside  from  the  original  playwriting,  and  the  re- 
vivals and  experimental  productions,  of  which  the 
activities  at  Harvard  and  California  have  been  de- 
scribed as  typical,  the  universities  are  exerting  a 
broadening  influence  through  the  courses  in  dramatic 
literature.  The  instruction  of  such  inspiring  teach- 
ers as  Professor  William  Lyon  Phelps  of  Yale  and 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     191 

Professor  Richard  Burton  of  the  University  of  Min- 
nesota cannot  help  but  fire  the  younger  generation 
with  visions  of  a  richer  and  finer  drama  than  that 
which  fills  the  theatres  to-day. 

A  comparison  of  the  student  productions  at  Co- 
lumbia University  with  those  of  several  smaller  insti- 
tutions suggests  the  interesting  question  of  the  value 
of  a  certain  isolation  as  an  incentive  to  original  and 
experimental  work.  For  the  student  activities  at  Co- 
lumbia, situated  in  the  heart  of  the  commercial  thea- 
tre centre  of  the  country,  have  not  been  specially 
notable;  whereas  unusually  interesting  things  have 
been  accomplished  at  such  comparatively  isolated 
institutions  as  Dartmouth  College,  Stanford  Uni- 
versity, and  Wellesley  College.  The  impression  of 
a  possible  commercial  influence  at  the  New  York 
institution  is  strengthened  when  one  reflects  that 
Brander  Matthews  is  the  one  among  university  pro- 
fessors who  has  adopted  most  completely  the  box- 
office  standard  of  dramatic  values.  Professor  Mat- 
thews has  done  much  good  by  spreading  a  knowledge 
of  the  more  practical  sides  of  the  theatre,  and  the 
dramatic  museum  which  he  has  founded  at  Columbia 
is  valuable  on  the  historical  side;  but  one  must  feel 
that  the  work  of  a  man  of  inspiring  idealism  like 
Professor  Thomas  H.  Dickinson  of  the  University 
of  Wisconsin  is  really  a  greater  force  for  progress 
in  the  new  American  theatre.  The  growth  of  dra- 
matic activities  at  the  university  at  Madison  is  In 


192  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

some  respects  one  of  the  most  significant  develop- 
ments in  recent  theatre  history.  Around  the  uni- 
versity group,  under  the  leadership  of  Professor 
Dickinson,  but  not  composed  exclusively  of  university 
people,  there  has  grown  up  the  association  known  as 
the  Wisconsin  Dramatic  Society.  This  organization 
publishes  a  monthly  magazine  as  well  as  occasional 
plays  In  book  form;  and  it  produces  original  plays 
by  local  dramatists,  aiming  at  the  creation  of  a  dis- 
tinctive body  of  Middle  West  American  drama.  Al- 
ready It  has  constructed  a  small  experimental  open- 
air  theatre,  and  plans  to  build  a  larger  one  when 
all  the  requirements  have  been  amply  tested;  and  it 
has  paved  the  way  for  a  school  for  the  study  of  all 
branches  of  the  art  of  the  theatre,  similar  to  that 
so  long  planned  by  Gordon  Craig, 
-^  What  the  American  theatre  most  needs  to-day  is 
freedom — freedom  from  traditional  fonns  and  con- 
ventional thought — freedom  for  experimentation. 
At  the  universities  more  than  at  any  other  place  that 
freedom  exists — not  at  the  old  hidebound  institu- 
tions, with  their  set  academic  standards,  but  at  the 
new  and  broader  universities  that  are  so  splendidly 
maintaining  their  place  at  the  forefront  of  American 
progress.  Relieved  from  the  necessity  of  commer-. 
cial  considerations,  the  university  theatres  have 
shown  the  ability  to  reach  back  to  what  is  best  in 
the  greater  periods  of  dramatic  art,  and  the  will  to 
reach  forward  to  untried  fields.     The  revivals  of 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     193: 

widely  varying  sorts  of  play,  showing  how  this  mas- 
ter or  that  achieved  dramatic  beauty;  the  experi- 
ments in  setting,  demonstrating  how  independent 
true  drama  is  of  the  gaudy  trappings  and  distract- 
ing naturalistic  details  of  the  usual  modern  back- 
ground; the  refreshing  absence  of  artificiality,  with 
the  physical  charm  of  unspoiled  faces  and  youthful 
figures;  the  teamwork  acting,  without  stars;  the  stu- 
dent playwrights  who  know  no  better  than  to  break 
all  the  traditional  rules  of  form — these  things  are 
of  the  very  essence  of  progress  in  the  American 
theatre. 

The  new  American  drama  cannot  grow  to  vital^ 
proportions  and  remain  independent  of  the  profes- 
sional theatre;  the  work  which  the  experimental  thea- 
tres are  doing  will  not  be  fully  effective  until  it 
reaches  the  larger  audiences  of  the  commercial  play- 
houses. But  the  art  theatre  will  not  lower  its  ideals 
to  gain  that  end.  What  must  happen  is  this:  the 
Broadway  theatre  will  adopt  the  ideals  of  the  art 
theatres.  Already  one  may  note  a  great  advance 
if  one  compares  the  commercial  theatre  of  to-day 
with  that  of  five  or  ten  years  ago.  While  we  may 
trace  to  the  experimental  theatres  the  impulses  to 
every  noticeable  reform  in  the  art,  still  we  must  see 
that  Broadway  is  responding  to  those  impulses.  Five 
years  ago  the  typical  New  York  manager  would 
have  staked  his  fortune  on  the  proposition  that  no 
"theorist"   could   "make   good"    on    Broadway   as 


194  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

Winthrop  Ames  has  done.  That  same  manager  to- 
day considers  Winthrop  Ames'  theatre  an  exotic 
growth  that  has  by  chance  found  sustenance  out  of 
its  own  sphere  and  in  an  alien  atmosphere.  But 
there  are  some  of  us  who  feel  that  it  is  not  the  Lit- 
tle Theatre  which  is  out  of  place,  but  the  atmos- 
phere. The  next  change  is  not  for  the  Little  Thea- 
tre to  go  back,  but  for  the  professional  theatre  to. 
reach  forward  to  the  Little  Theatre's  standards. 
There  was  a  time  when  there  was  only  one  La  Fol- 
lette  in  the  United  States  Senate,  and  in  those  days 
the  standpatters  laughed  at  the  suggestion  that  the 
Senate  ever  could  be  anything  but  a  standpat  strong- 
hold; but  many  of  the  senators  of  that  time  have  per- 
force returned  to  other  walks  of  life,  and  the  La  Fol- 
lette  brand  of  progressivism  pervades  a  large  pro- 
portion of  the  senatorial  offices.  So  those  of  us 
who  believe  in  the  experimental  theatre  look  forward 
to  a  time,  not  far  distant,  when  many  of  the  stand- 
patters of  the  American  theatre  will  have  gradu- 
ated to  other  professions  by  public  consent,  a  time 
when  there  will  be  many  Winthrop  Ames  in  the  pro- 
fessional American  playhouses.  The  art  theatres 
and  the  universities  are  making  that  time  possible. 

II 

One  of  the  most  significant  phases  of  the  experi- 
mental movement  is  the  development  of  the  open-air 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     195 

theatre.  Within  a  few  years  a  remarkable  number 
of  so-called  nature  theatres  have  been  constructed 
in  Europe,  and  month  by  month  we  hear  of  this  or 
that  outdoor  playhouse  having  been  planned  or  ac- 
tually built  in  America.  The  open-air  theatre  has 
become  such  a  factor  in  dramatic  progress,  and  Is 
so  full  of  a  wholesome  promise  for  the  future  that 
no  discussion  of  the  advance  of  the  American  thea- 
tre would  be  complete  without  at  least  a  brief  con- 
sideration of  it.  Certain  lessons  have  been  learned 
from  the  outdoor  productions,  and  certain  principles 
proved,  which  are  of  great  moment  to  the  progress 
of  dramatic  art  as  a  whole.  The  experience  of  the 
Greek  Theatre  of  the  University  of  California  may 
be  taken  as  the  basis  for  the  consideration  of  these 
lessons;  it  is  chosen  not  only  because  its  story  hap- 
pens to  be  better  known  to  the  writer  than  that  of 
any  other,  but  because  it  is  very  typical  of  the  whole 
open-air  movement;  moreover  it  has  just  completed 
the  first  decade  of  its  existence,  having  antedated  the 
majority  of  similar  theatres  in  America. 

The  first  and  most  important  lesson  learned  from  ^T^ 
the  open-air  playhouse  concerns  the  relation  between 
type  of  play  and  type  of  theatre.  At  the  cost  of 
many  failures  it  has  been  proved  that  it  Is  worse 
than  folly  to  carry  into  the  open  air  what  we  are 
accustomed  to  consider  our  most  dramatic  types  of 
play;  it  has  been  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  only 
certain    simple   or   decorative    sorts  of  drama  can 


196  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

leave  the  conventional  built-up  stage  and  the  inti- 
mate roofed-in  auditorium  without  greater  loss  than 
gain. 

Aside  from  the  hygienic  and  economic  considera- 
tions which  have  led  to  the  widespread  outdoor 
movement  in  all  departments  of  human  life,  the 
gain  in  open-air  dramatic  production  is  this:  a  free- 
dom from  the  binding  sense  of  walls  and  roof,  with 
a  consequent  widening  of  heart  and  mind;  a  refresh- 
ing freedom  from  the  artificial  and  often  tawdry 
conventions  of  commercial  staging;  and  a  largeness 
of  stage  that  permits  beautiful  professional  effects 
and  decorative  groupings  that  are  impossible  on  the 
platform  shut  in  by  "wings"  and  "borders."  The 
loss  in  carrying  a  play  out-of-doors  is  this :  the  sense 
of  intimacy,  of  close  absorption,  can  be  sustained 
only  in  the  small  walled-in  space  of  the  indoor  thea- 
tre; subtleties  of  thought  and  vague  nuances  of  feel- 
ing are  lost  in  the  wider  open  spaces;  the  play  which 
holds  the  indoor  audience  by  cumulative  emotional 
interest,  by  a  gripping  story  carried  out  by  a  few 
actors  with  little  physical  movement,  fails  to  carry 
the  outdoor  audience  because  there  is  no  longer  the 
feeling  of  being  in  the  room  with  the  action,  no 
longer  the  close  personal  interest.  The  intensive  so- 
cial drama,  the  purely  emotional  play,  the  play  that 
depends  upon  interior  settings  to  create  the  proper 
intimate  atmosphere,  all  these  it  is  impossible  to  pre- 
sent adequately  on  the  open-air  stage.     Other  and 


1 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     197 

well-known  plays  fail  out-of-doors  on  account  of  the 
mechanical  limitations:  for  here  there  can  be  no  in- 
teresting scene  suddenly  discovered  to  the  audience; 
and  here  there  is  no  curtain  to  fall  on  a  compelling 
climax;  at  the  beginning  of  each  act  the  players  must 
enter  in  full  view  of  the  audience,  and  the  action  is 
not  finished  until  every  figure  has  left  the  stage. 
Plays  that  are  specially  suited  to  production  in  the 
open  air  are  plays  of  broad  rather  than  subtle  spir- 
itual significance,  plays  that  hold  primarily  by  their 
poetry,  and,  most  of  all,  plays  that  depend  largely 
upon  decorative  movement,  upon  moving  processions, 
pageantry  and  dancing.  The  large  mass,  the  broad 
sweep,  the  big  spirit,  and  the  shifting  lines  and  col- 
ors, are  the  things  that  count  out-of-doors. 

Not  only  does  the  carrying  of  a  play  into  the  open 
limit  its  kind,  but  each  open-air  theatre  imposes  its 
own  limitations.  The  Greek  Theatre,  with  its  im- 
mense stage  and  imposing  architectural  background, 
is  uncompromising  in  Its  demands  of  simplicity  and 
largeness  In  action  and  staging.  The  rapid  volley- 
ing of  question  and  answer,  the  timid  voice,  the  deli- 
cate facial  expression,  all  these  are  lost  in  the  im- 
mensity of  space.  The  plays  that  really  succeed 
here  are,  first,  the  Greek  tragedies,  with  the  beauty 
of  their  simple  stately  action  and  their  rigid  economy 
of  means  reflected  In  the  dignified,  almost  severe, 
beauty  of  the  towering  background;  and  second,  the 
plays  that  fill  the  stage  with  a  continuous  decorative 


198  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

pattern  of  moving  figures,  with  huge  masses  and 
compelling  colors  that  are  not  overshadowed  by  the 
setting.  When  the  students  of  the  University  of 
California  decided  to  produce  Alfred  Noyes'  poetic 
play  "Sherwood,"  they  wisely  foresaw  that  its  charm 
would  be  lost  in  the  Greek  Theatre,  and  presented 
it  in  a  nearby  wooded  glade.  Similarly  the  women 
students  carry  to  an  idyllic  little  canon  their  annual 
"Masque  of  Maidenhood,"  which  in  the  natural  set- 
ting achieves  a  physical  loveliness  and  a  symbolic 
effectiveness  that  would  be  entirely  lost  on  the  Greek 
Theatre  stage.  There  are  forest  and  garden  thea- 
tres which  are  ideally  suited  to  the  acting  of  such 
plays  as  "A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  and  "As 
You  Like  It";  but  the  classic  open-air  theatre  does 
not  lend  itself  gracefully  to  such  fantastic  drama. 
^  So  the  open-air  playhouses  have  taught  this  lesson: 
V  \  ^hat  production  out-of-doors  must  be  of  a  certain 
largeness  and  simplicity;  that  the  type  of  open-air 
theatre  definitely  limits  the  type  of  drama  produced, 
leaning  on  the  one  hand  toward  a  classic  dignity  and 
severity,  and  on  the  other  toward  an  idyllic  loveli- 
ness; and  lastly  that  as  a  general  rule  the  pageant- 
like plays,  the  plays  which  delight  the  eye  by  decora- 
tive movement  and  color,  are  the  most  successful 
in  the  open. 
_^  The  second  lesson  taught  by  the  outdoor  theatres 
'^is  this :  the  average  operP5ta:ge  background  cannot  be 
decorated.    Whether  it  is  the  stage-wall  of  the  Greek 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     199 

Theatre,  with  its  beautifully  proportioned  columns 
and  panels,  or  a  nature  theatre's  baclcground  of  trees 
and  shrubs,  there  is  little  that  the  stage  decorator 
can  add  which  will  not  prove  merely  ridiculous.  The 
keynote  of  outdoor  staging  must  be  simplicity;  the 
properties  must  be  few,  and  anything  introduced  into 
the  setting  must  be  massive.  The  failure  to  under- 
stand this  principle  has  led  many  a  commercial  pro- 
ducer to  artistic  disaster.  Stage  managers,  bringing 
their  plays  from  the  regular  theatres  into  the  Greek 
Theatre  for  the  first  time,  have  attempted  to  mask 
the  architectural  background,  or  at  least  to  over- 
come the  sense  of  immensity,  by  bringing  to  the  stage 
all  the  clutter  so  dear  to  the  commercial  decorator's 
heart — but  always  they  have  succeeded  only  in  show- 
ing the  futility  of  their  own  artificial  tricks  when 
divorced  from  the  artificial  atmosphere  of  the  indoor 
stage.  In  the  open-air  theatre  it  is  a  case  of  accept 
the  natural  setting  or  stay  away.  The  lesson  thus 
taught  has  reflected  even  into  the  regular  theatre 
the  wholesome  truth  that  elaborate  stage  setting  is 
not  as  important  as  the  old-time  manager  would  have 
us  think;  that,  while  it  negatively  can  work  great 
harm  by  taking  attention  from  the  play,  positively 
it  should  do  no  more  than  heighten  the  atmosphere 
of  the  action — the  more  simply  the  better,  and  al- 
ways with  regard  to  imaginative  rather  than  material 
illusion. 

The  third  lesson  brought  out  by  the  experience 


^ 


200  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT. 

of  the  open-air  theatres  concerns  climatic  condi- 
tions. It  is,  in  short,  that  in  any  but  the  most 
favorable  climates  a  community  able  to  build  only 
one  theatre  should  make  it  of  the  indoor  rather 
than  the  open-air  type.  The  success  of  the  produc- 
tions at  the  Greek  Theatre  at  the  University  of  Cali- 
fornia has  led  to  a  rather  hysterical  demand  at  many 
other  institutions  for  similar  structures.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  that  the  parts  of  California  in  which 
the  Greek  Theatre  and  the  half  dozen  other  notable 
Western  open-air  playhouses  are  located,  enjoy  a 
rainless  season  of  perhaps  five  months,  while  an  ad- 
ditional three  or  four  months  of  each  year  are  so 
generally  fair  as  to  practically  give  assurance  of 
favorable  conditions  for  outdoor  production.  In  the 
Eastern  states  there  can  be  no  feeling  of  security  that 
any  open-air  production  will  be  given  at  the  time 
scheduled.  The  day  will  probably  come  when  the 
majority  of  universities  and  many  experimental  pro- 
ducing societies  will  have  outdoor  theatres ;  but  their 
indoor  playhouses  should  be  built  first.  The  climatic 
considerations  do  not  afford  the  only  argument  for 
providing  a  place  for  Indoor  drama  first:  for  we  have 
seen  that  the  open-air  stage  is  suited  to  only  a  few 
types  of  drama,  and  those  certainly  not  more  im- 
portant than  the  emotional  and  Intensive  types  that 
are  characteristically  fitted  for  indoor  presentation. 
By  all  means  let  us  have  as  many  open-air  playhouses 
as  possible,  but  let  us  not  forget  that  a  university 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA     201 

or  producing  society  or  community  that  has  such  a 
theatre  possesses  only  one  half  of  the  equipment 
necessary  to  significant  and  rounded  series  of  pro- 
ductions. 

In  connection  with  the  somewhat  over-enthusiastic 
excitement  about  the  outdoor  theatre,  it  is  worth 
while  to  note  that  the  mere  building  of  a  theatre  of 
any  sort  will  not  create  a  body  of  significant  drama, 
or  even  an  interest  in  the  drama.  Any  theatre  must 
be  the  outgrowth  of  a  need  if  it  is  to  live  up  fully  to 
its  possibilities.  The  Greek  Theatre  has  been  a 
success  because  the  dramatic  activity  anticipated  the  /7^ 
building.  For  a  decade  before  its  construction  an  ' 
annual  student  play  had  been  presented  In  the  natural 
amphitheatre  which  the  classic  structure  now  fills, 
and  all  the  student  activities  had  outgrown  the  facili- 
ties at  hand.  Certain  outdoor  theatres  have  failed 
to  serve  any  worthy  purpose  just  because  they  were 
erected  when  or  where  the  necessary  interest  in 
drama  did  not  exist.  Moreover  the  several  types  of 
open-air  structures  should  be  studied  carefully  in  rela- 
tion to  the  needs,  the  architectural  theatre,  the  nature 
theatre,  and  the  garden  theatre  each  offering  distinc- 
tive advantages  and  limitations.  If  the  classic  archi- 
tectural type  is  chosen,  the  ancient  models  should  not 
be  slavishly  followed.  The  Greek  Theatre  at  Berke- 
ley is  not  a  true  copy  of  a  theatre  of  old  Greece,  but 
a  theatre  in  Greek  style  and  with  Greek  beauty  con- 
forming to  modern  and  local  requirements.     The- 


202  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

atres  may  be  built  as  archaeological  curiosities,  but 
they  then  will  have  little  to  do  with  dramatic  prog- 
ress. 

■  The  development  of  the  open-airjheatre  is  even 
more  significant  in  its  social  than  in  its  artistic  as- 
pects. Outdoor  drama  is  the  most  democratic  of  the 
arts.  On  the  vast  stages  great  numbers  of  people  are 
brought  together  in  a  friendship  cemented  by  a  com- 
mon artistic  purpose.  Where  the  commercial  the- 
atre brings  together  a  few  people  in  a  business  ven- 
ture, the  open-air  theatre  brings  together  many  in  a 
spontaneous  and  pleasurable  pursuit  of  beauty.  The 
citizens  of  those  towns  that  have  held  pageants  will 
attest  to  the  new  spirit  of  mutual  interest  which  has 
followed  the  association  in  creating  and  presenting 
the  productions.  In  the  auditoriums,  too,  there  is 
a  democratic  tendency  that  is  foreign  to  the  indoor 
theatre.  The  outdoor  playhouses  usually  seat  many 
more  people,  and  the  seats  are  not  graded  as  excel- 
lent, good,  poor,  and  very  poor,  with  corresponding 
money  values.  Usually  the  seats  are  almost  equally 
good,  and  the  price  of  admission  fairly  low.  There 
are  no  boxes  from  which  to  exhibit  jewels  and  ex- 
pensive gowns,  and  seldom  a  dividing  line  between  a 
metaphoric  orchestra  and  balcony — all  of  which 
makes  for  democracy. 

In  summary  it  may  be  said  that  the  open-air  the- 
atre is  one  of  the  most  promising  influences  in  the 
dramatic  world  to-day.    Alone  it  will  not  carry  us 


.1W\0\ 


iVi  .«>••/ 


..L    I'/AU'l    - 


■\o\  ^' 


ii'i^:s^'\ 


THE  GREEK  THEATRE  AT  POINT  LOMA 

This  is  the  unique  and  very  beautiful  "Greek  Theatre^* 
at  the  headqtiarters  of  the  International  Theosophical 
Society^  at  Point  Loma^  California.  It  is  built  at  the 
head  of  a  precipitous  canyo7iy  and  faces  the  open  sea, 
affording  an  outlook  unsurpassed  even  by  any  in  Greece. 
As  the  stage  is  open  on  all  sides,  save  for  the  chaste  little 
temple,  the  most  successful  productions  have  been  pageant- 
like rather  than  intensively  dramatic  plays.  The  theatre 
is  one  of  a  dozen  experimental  playhouses  in  America 
where  real  progress  has  been  made  in  creating  new  forms  of 
dramatic  art.  Mme.  Katherine  Tingley,  for  whom  the 
theatre  was  built,  has  writte^i  and  directed  the  production 
here  of  several  pageant-like  plays  of  unusual  decorative 
beauty  ayid  symbolic  effectiveness. 


THE  REAL  PROGRESS  IN  AMERICA    203 

very  far  In  the  building  of  a  great  dramatic  art,  for 
it  is  suited  to  the  production  of  only  a  limited  type 
of  play.  Moreover  its  activity  is  subject  to  uncon- 
trollable outward  conditions.  But  on  account  of  the 
present  commercialization  of  the  regular  theatres, 
the  outdoor  drama  has  proved  to  be  a  stronger  social 
force  in  the  community.  It  is  in  some  measure  an 
offset  to  the  tendency  toward  artificiality,  and  stagna- 
tion of  the  commercial  theatre.  And  it  affords  to  the 
spectator  a  sort  of  satisfaction  that  is  distinctively  its 
own.  Properly  constructed  and  wisely  used,  the 
open-air  theatre  is  a  very  refreshing  phase,  though 
not  the  only  important  one,  of  the  theatre's  latter-day 
progress. 


VIII 

SOME   THOUGHTS   ON   THEATRE 
ARCHITECTURE 


SOME    THOUGHTS   ON   THEATRE 
ARCHITECTURE 

All  true  architects,  possessing  the  souls  of  artists, 
must  have  experienced  the  mood  of  ennobling  calm, 
even  of  rapturous  exaltation,  that  comes  with  the 
witnessing  of  a  great  play.  At  the  fall  of  the  curtain 
they  have  sat  silent  for  a  moment  in  that  peculiarly 
satisfying  mood  of  serious  spiritual  contemplation 
which  is  felt  elsewhere  only  after  an  inspiring  service 
in  the  church.  To  the  lover  of  the  theatre  it  seems 
curious,  and  certainly  very  pitiable,  that  these  artist- 
architects  so  seldom  have  struck  this  note  of  repose, 
and  of  detachment  from  the  vulgarities  of  life,  in 
the  designing  of  theatre  buildings. 

One  who  cares  for  the  art  of  the  theatre  gains 
from  a  rapid  survey  of  the  "best"  American  play- 
houses the  inescapable  impression  that  the  architects 
have  considered  the  theatre  a  dumping-ground  for 
every  form  and  every  ornament  that  was  too  gaudy 
or  too  meaningless  for  other  buildings.  The  indict- 
ment may  be  summed  up  in  two  general  propositions : 
first,  that  they  have  servilely  copied  a  general  form 

207 


2o8  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

and  a  traditional  style  of  playhouse — more  particu- 
larly that  most  ornate  of  buildings,  the  Paris  Opera 
House;  and  second,  that  In  the  decoration  of  facade 
and  Interior  they  have  allowed  their  fancies  to  run 
riot,  giving  free  play  to  every  wild  Impulse  to  add 
extravagant  ornament,  and  to  cover  every  Inch  of 
surface  with  tinsel  and  gilt.  Even  the  men  who 
would  not  think  of  sticking  such  rubbish  on  public 
libraries,  or  college  buildings,  or  churches,  have 
"decorated"  their  theatres  with  every  sort  of  mean- 
ingless and  utterly  hideous  wreaths  and  ribbons,  and 
Cupids,  and  stencllings.  It  is  the  rule  rather  than 
the  exception  that  the  American  theatre  (and  the 
English,  it  may  be  added)  shall  be  ornate,  overdec- 
orated,  and  vulgarly  gorgeous.  The  average  play- 
house Is  the  concrete  embodiment  of  the  "pathetic 
flourish."  Usually  it  is  a  sort  of  cross  between  a 
barn  and  a  Coney  Island  ginger-bread  palace. 

It  is  one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  archi- 
tectural design  that  the  building  shall  be  artisti- 
cally fitted  to  its  use;  that  its  outward  appeal  to 
the  eye  shall  reflect  the  Ideals  of  the  institution  it 
houses.  Perhaps  the  architects  have  justified  their 
theatre  buildings  to  themselves  by  thinking  that  they 
were  reflecting  the  spirit  of  the  current  dramatic  pro- 
ductions. They  argued,  perhaps,  that  since  the 
world  was  abandoning  the  theatre,  as  an  institution, 
to  the  vulgar,  it  was  quite  as  well  to  give  up  its  build- 
ing to  the  vulgar.     If  they  have,  indeed,  caught  in 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    209 

their  architecture  any  reflection  of  the  theatre  pro- 
duction, It  Is  that  of  the  surface  paint  and  powder, 
of  the  tinsel  and  the  gaudiness — and  not  of  the  essen- 
tial uplifting  spirit  of  the  drama  as  a  whole.  They 
have  reflected  the  vulgar  pretentiousness  and  the  in- 
sincerity of  a  passing  phase  of  "show,"  rather  than 
the  universal  and  lasting  dignity  of  the  true  art  of 
the  theatre.  As  artists  they  should  have  been  able 
to  see  deeper. 

It  happens  that  to-day  the  true  art  is  reasserting 
itself  In  a  most  wholesome  way.  When  one  speaks  of 
"the  theatre"  nowadays,  one  does  not  refer  to  "musi- 
cal shows"  and  melodramatic  plays,  but  to  forms  of 
dramatic  art  that  are  serious,  sincere,  and  based  on 
the  principles  which  underlie  all  the  arts.  Unfortu- 
nately musical  comedies  and  revues,  even  in  their 
worst  forms,  probably  will  survive  for  many  years; 
but  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  art,  nor  with  the 
theatre  in  the  proper  sense.  If  one  Is  designing  the 
building  for  a  manager  or  producer  whose  whole 
ideal  is  to  gather  the  dollars  of  the  tired  business 
man,  in  return  for  helping  that  unfortunate  indi- 
vidual to  digest  his  dinner  without  mental  or  emo- 
tional exertion — why,  then  by  all  means  It  should  be 
made  as  typical  as  possible  of  merely  empty  amuse- 
ment, like  a  ballroom,  or  bar-room,  or  "chop-suey 
palace."  If  one  Is  building  a  house  for  the  prostitu- 
tion of  art,  by  all  means  dignity,  and  repose,  and 
chaste  beauty  should  be  avoided.     But  the  building 


2IO  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

should  not  be  confused  with  the  theatre  proper.  For 
that  is  as  much  the  temple  of  art  as  the  church  is  of 
rehgion,  or  the  college  hall  of  education. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  inquire  here  into  the  several 
ways  in  which  the  new  ideals  of  dramatic  art  are 
being  realized — into  the  new  aesthetic  theatre,  and 
the  development  of  the  drama  of  sincerity.  It  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  there  is  a  very  marked  tightening 
of  dramatic  standards;  and  a  very  large  achievement 
of  lasting  and  artistic  results;  and  finally  a  very  defi- 
nite promise  of  a  second  flowering  of  the  art  of  the 
theatre  comparable  with  that  of  the  Renaissance. 
And  through  all  the  currents  of  the  new  movement 
runs  the  triple  chord  of  dignity,  sincerity,  and  beauty. 

What  theatres  in  America  are  adequate  to  house 
such  a  drama?  Where  can  dignified  plays  be  housed 
as  worthily  as  our  public  collections  of  books  are 
housed  in  the  Boston  Public  Library  and  the  New 
York  Public  Library,  or  in  the  hundreds  of  beautiful 
smaller  library  buildings  scattered  from  one  side  of 
the  country  to  the  other?  Where  are  there  theatres 
as  dignified  and  as  beautiful  as  the  buildings  of  our 
colleges,  from  Columbia  University  on  the  Atlantic 
to  the  University  of  California  on  the  Pacific?  And 
how  many  theatres  are  so  designed  that  they  induce 
a  state  of  receptivity  and  foster  a  mood  of  spiritual 
communion,  as  do  a  hundred  churches  scattered  from 
the  East  coast  to  the  West? 

Ah,  but  it  is  objected  that  there  is  an  element  of 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    211 

mere  amusement,  or  entertainment,  in  the  theatre, 
that  does  not  distinguish  the  church  or  the  college  or 
the  library.  The  statement  is  hardly  a  half-truth. 
The  truth  is  that  the  best  drama,  like  the  best  relig- 
ion, and  the  best  education,  and  the  best  book,  not 
only  entertains,  but  at  the  same  time  evokes  a  deeper 
emotional  or  mental  response.  In  all  of  these  things 
entertainment  is  mingled  with  the  deeper  and  more 
significant  elements.  It  is  simply  that  the  drama 
more  easily  degenerates  to  exhibitions  which  merely 
amuse  by  calling  forth  idle  laughter  or  tricking  to 
purely  momentary  tears.  But  we  do  not  make  our 
library  buildings  undignified  just  because  they  house 
many  ephemeral  books  designed  for  amusement  only 
— and  perhaps  some  very  frivolous  ones.  Even  if 
the  circulation  of  fiction  exceeds  that  of  the  more  sub- 
stantial and  serious  non-fiction,  the  architect  does  not 
plaster  overflowing  cornucopias  and  repulsive  terra 
cotta  Cupids  over  the  windows  of  the  fagade,  and 
"decorate"  the  interior  by  adding  tinseled  chande- 
liers and  spattering  the  ceilings  with  gilt  sausages. 
That  the  theatre  entertains  is  no  argument  for  vul- 
garizing it.  All  art  entertains;  that  is,  gives  pleas- 
ure. The  building  should  harmonize  with  the 
dignified  elements  of  the  entertainment,  with  the  best 
that  the  drama  has  to  offer. 

The  whole  trouble  is  that  the  architects  have  rec- 
ognized the  inherent  dignity  of  the  church,  the  public 
library,  and  the  university,  and  even  of  the  arts  of 


212  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

painting  and  sculpture,  but  have  not  realized  the 
serious  beauty  of  the  essential  spirit  of  the  drama. 
They  have  visualized  the  theatre  as  a  pastime,  or  a 
business,  and  not  as  an  art. 

There  is  a  close  parallel  between  the  ideal  setting 
for  a  play  and  the  ideal  playhouse.  Very  recently 
artists  of  the  theatre  have  rediscovered  some  of  the 
fundamental  principles  of  stage  decoration,  which 
had  been  buried  for  decades  under  the  mass  of  un- 
meaning and  distracting  realism  exploited  by  the 
most  "successful"  managers.  The  principles  of  unity 
and  harmony  again  are  finding  their  places  on  the 
stage.  Everything  in  the  setting  as  well  as  in  the 
action  is  being  designed  to  foster  one  single  sustained 
mood.  The  artist  of  the  theatre  is  eliminating  from 
the  setting  everything  that  is  sensational,  and  every 
meaningless  detail — every  extra  distracting  thing 
that  might  call  the  attention  away  from  the  spiritual 
essence  of  the  production;  he  makes  his  setting  unob- 
trusive and  harmonious,  so  that  unconsciously  the 
spectator  is  put  into  a  state  of  receptivity,  instead  of 
having  his  attention  violently  drawn  to  this  feature 
or  that  of  "the  scenery." 

The  setting  may  be  designed  to  harmonize  with 
the  particular  mood  of  each  play,  whereas  the  theatre 
building  must  remain  the  same  through  tragedy  or 
comedy,  through  sesthetic  drama  or  psychologic  play. 
But  the  principles  of  artistic  setting  apply  quite  as 
readily  to  the  building,  though  a  more  neutral  treat- 


4o>  •. 


THE  MUNICH  ART  THEATRE 

Note  the  dignity  and  simplicity  of  the  exterior  of  this 
theatre.  The  interior  is  equally  free  from  the  tinsel  and 
gilty  from  the  vulgarity  and  pretentiousness y  that  charac- 
terize English  and  American  theatre  buildings  almost 
zvithout  exception.  Thsre  is  no  intention  to  suggest  that 
this  playhouse  and  the  American  one  shown  i^i  the  fol- 
lowing picture  are  to  be  counted  among  the  world's  master- 
pieces of  architecture.  But  there  is  in  them  something  of 
the  simple  beauty  a7id  nobility  that  7nake  works  of  art  more 
pleasing  with  riper  acquaintance.  The  building  shown 
here  is  by  Professor  Max  Littmann,  a  German  architect 
who  has  designed  a  remarkable  series  of  theatres  in  perfect 
accord  with  the  underlying  dignity  of  dramatic  art. 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    213 

ment  is  necessary.  Almost  the  same  words  may  be 
used  of  the  ideal  playhouse  as  of  the  ideal  setting: 
eliminate  from  the  architecture  everything  that  is 
sensational  or  insincere,  every  meaningless  detail, 
every  unnecessary  extra  thing  that  might  distract  the 
attention;  let  it  be  unobtrusive  and  harmonious. 

It  is  worth  while  to  construct  from  the  imagination 
a  playhouse  that  will  be  as  perfectly  in  accord  with 
all  serious  drama  as  the  ideal  dramatic  setting  is  with 
its  particular  play;  that  will  help  to  concentrate  in- 
stead of  scatter  the  attentive  faculties;  that  will  help 
to  make  the  mind  and  senses  receptive;  that  will  fos- 
ter the  spiritual  mood. 

In  the  first  place  it  Is  clear  that  the  fagade  will  not 
attract  the  eye  by  gorgeousness  and  intricacy;  but 
rather  will  satisfy  it  simply,  with  a  sense  of  beauty 
and  repose.  The  fagade  will  be  distinguished  by 
sobriety  and  simplicity.  There  will  be  in  it  the  dig- 
nity that  breeds  solemnity — that  dignity  which  here- 
tofore has  been  reserved  almost  exclusively  for  the 
church.  Indeed,  it  seems  curious  that  the  architects 
have  not  found  a  hint  in  the  fact  that  the  drama  grew 
out  of  religion,  both  in  its  first  birth  in  the  festival 
rites  of  Greece,  and  in  its  rebirth  at  the  altar  of  the 
church  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Great  drama,  more  than 
any  other  art,  has  the  church's  inherent  power  of 
stirring  men's  souls  to  the  depths;  in  the  theatre  and 
in  the  church  the  deeper  chords  of  spirituality  are 
touched  as  nowhere  else  In  life.    And  yet  how  many 


214  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  the  serious  qualities  of  church  architecture  are  to 
be  found  in  the  theatre  buildings  of  to-day? 

The  theatre  architect,  when  once  he  has  recognized 
the  qualities  that  the  facade  should  reflect,  will 
quickly  realize  that  the  perfect  accomplishment  is 
less  a  matter  of  decorating — what  crimes  have  been 
committed  in  the  name  of  "decoration"  I — than  the 
perfectly  balanced  combination  of  simple  lines  and 
well-ordered  masses.  Avoiding  on  the  one  hand  the 
fussy  and  the  gaudy,  and  on  the  other  the  classically 
cold,  he  will  evolve  from  the  infinite  possibihties  that 
combination  of  restful  lines  and  perfect  spacing 
which  most  exactly  solves  the  problem  at  hand,  and 
most  perfectly  reflects  the  inner  spirit  of  drama. 

Within  the  theatre  there  will  be  quite  as  rigid 
exclusion  of  distracting  detail  and  unmeaning  orna- 
ment as  in  the  fagade.  In  the  interior  even  more  than 
in  the  exterior  it  is  desirable  that  everything  shall  be 
designed  to  induce  concentration  rather  than  to  scat- 
ter the  attention.  A  chaste  simplicity  in  decorative 
forms,  and  a  beautiful  and  subtle  harmony  in  color- 
ing, are  far  more  conducive  to  a  sense  of  calm  con- 
templation than  a  riot  of  unmeaning  ornament  and 
brilliant  color.  A  certain  richness  in  decoration  is 
not  out  of  place  within  the  theatre,  but  it  should  be 
less  the  richness  of  profusion  than  that  which  comes 
from  simple  forms  combined  with  just  the  right 
decorative  touch  by  a  master  artist.  One  can  imag- 
ine a  lyric  touch  in  the  foyer,  a  piece  of  decorative 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    215 

sculpture,  or  a  mural  painting,  perhaps,  that  would 
be  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  reposeful  fagade  and 
the  chastely  decorative  auditorium,  and  which  at  the 
same  time  would  add  a  suggestion  of  the  lyric  ele- 
ment in  dramatic  art.  But  Heaven  deliver  us  from 
the  average  "mural  decorator"  ! 

The  proscenium  arch  always  has  been  a  favorite 
repository  for  impossible  garlands,  monstrous  cor- 
nucopias, strings  of  gilt  sausages,  crude  Cupids,  half- 
naked  women,  and  similar  abominations.  There  is 
no  other  part  of  the  theatre,  within  or  without,  that 
is  so  commonly  overloaded  with  meaningless  objects. 
And  yet  there  is  no  place  in  the  theatre  where  even 
passable  decoration  is  more  out  of  place.  The  pro- 
scenium frame  is  closer  to  the  action  than  any  other 
constructive  feature  of  the  theatre,  and  therefore 
has  greater  possibilities  for  drawing  the  eye  away 
from  that  action.  It  should,  therefore,  be  as  simple, 
harmonious,  and  unobtrusive  as  possible.  It  frames 
the  setting  and  action  as  a  picture-frame  does  the 
painting.  The  painters  are  beginning  to  realize  that 
nine  out  of  ten  pictures  are  constantly  waging  war 
with  their  frames  for  the  attention  of  the  spectator: 
that  the  usual  heavy  gilded  frame  always  is  tending 
to  draw  the  eye  away  from  the  canvas  and  that  there 
is  a  constant  effort  to  keep  the  attention  fixed:  so 
they  are  very  wisely  beginning  to  adopt  frames  that 
are  simple  and  neutral  and  harmonious  in  tone. 
Similarly  the  theatre  architect  must  recognize  that 


2i6  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  old  style,  or  rather  the  current  style,  of  pro- 
scenium arch,  with  its  conspicuous  ornateness,  tends 
to  draw  the  eye  away  from  the  stage-picture,  with  a 
consequent  distraction  of  all  the  senses  of  attention. 
The  proscenium  frame,  like  the  picture  frame,  should 
be  simple  and  neutral,  not  calling  attention  to  itself 
by  any  conspicuous  beauty  or  hideousness  of  its  own. 

The  present  writer  has  no  desire  to  encroach  upon 
the  prerogatives  of  practising  architects  by  attempt- 
ing to  point  out  just  how  the  various  elements  of 
construction  may  be  combined  to  produce  the  ideal 
outward  aspect  he  has  sketched.  He  does  not  pre- 
sume to  suggest  how  the  columns,  and  the  doorways, 
the  cornices  and  the  windows,  may  be  put  together, 
or  the  interior  spaces  divided  and  the  colors  com- 
bined, to  produce  that  sense  of  beauty  and  repose 
which  will  foster  the  proper  mood  for  dramatic  pro- 
ductions. But  he  is  very  sure  that  it  can  be  done,  and 
that  it  has  been  done  almost  ideally  for  other  insti- 
tutions than  the  theatre.  The  realization  lies  with 
the  architect,  and  it  would  be  mere  presumption  for 
one  without  a  life  training  in  architecture  to  go  into 
the  matter  of  actual  design.  But  it  has  seemed  worth 
while  to  point  out  the  inconsistency  between  the  archi- 
tects' accomplishment  and  the  ideals  of  dramatic  art, 
and  to  sketch  an  imaginative  ideal  playhouse  from 
the  drama-lover's  theoretical  point  of  view. 

But  if  the  man  of  the  theatre  should  not  obtrude 
his  opinions  about  the  actual  combination  of  archi- 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    217 

tectural  elements,  he  should  by  all  means  help  the 
architect  to  an  understanding  of  certain  practical  re- 
quirements which  the  latter  will  have  to  meet  only 
in  his  work  for  the  theatre.  Especially  at  this  time 
of  revolutionary  changes  behind  the  proscenium,  the 
architect  should  know  of  certain  developments  in 
staging  and  lighting  that  so  far  have  been  discussed 
only  in  the  most  specialized  of  theatre  publications. 
The  architect  who  gained  his  knowledge  of  stage 
mechanism  five  years  ago  is  not  by  that  education 
fitted  to  design  a  theatre  for  the  drama  of  to-day. 
And  the  architect  who  is  building  now  without  know- 
ing of  the  vital  changes  in  stage  setting  that  are 
taking  place  in  Germany,  and  France,  and  Italy,  and 
Russia,  may  be  very  sure  that  his  theatre  will  be  very 
uncomfortably  out  of  date  and  inadequate  ten  years 
from  now. 

The  chai;ges  In  settings  already  demand  changes 
from  the  traditional  sizes  and  shapes  of  stage.  When 
the  new  generation  of  artists  of  the  theatre  began 
to  apply  the  first  principles  of  unity  and  harmony 
in  their  productions,  they  discovered  that  the  old 
painted  scenery,  the  "flats,"  and  "wings,"  and  "sky 
borders,"  were  Impossible  to  use  artistically.  They 
employed  simple  hangings  to  some  extent;  and  where 
they  retained  "scenery,"  they  began  to  work  In  "the 
round"  Instead  of  "the  flat."  That  Is,  they  began 
to  build  up  actual  objects  on  the  stage,  which  would 
have  their  true  perspective  lines,   differing  as  the 


21 8  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

angle  of  sight  of  the  spectator  changed,  and  to  dis- 
card the  old  method  of  painting  perspective  on  can- 
vas, in  which  case  the  Hnes  were  always  "wrong" 
except  from  one  viewpoint;  and  instead  of  painting 
light  and  shade,  which  never  looked  right  from  any 
point  of  view,  they  used  neutral  masses  in  the  back- 
ground and  left  the  built-up  scenery  in  the  foreground 
to  cast  its  natural  shadows.  Inevitably  they  needed 
a  stage  of  changed  dimensions.  At  present,  even  the 
least  revolutionary  managers  are  perceiving  that  "the 
round,"  in  one  form  or  another,  is  bound  to  super- 
sede the  old  system  of  painted  and  flapping  canvas 
backgrounds  and  borders,  and  foregrounds  of  flimsy, 
illy-joined  "flats."  Gordon  Craig  has  perfected  a 
system  of  folding  screen  scenery,  which  is  perhaps 
the  most  promising  development  of  the  new  ideas  in 
setting.  When  one  reflects  that  the  screens  form  a 
more  artistic  background  for  the  action,  that  they 
may  be  shifted  for  a  change  of  scene  in  a  small  frac- 
tion of  the  time  necessary  under  the  traditional 
system,  that  they  do  not  interfere  with  lighting  from 
the  sides  and  above  as  did  the  old  "flats,"  and  lastly 
that  they  are  very  much  less  expensive  to  build  and 
to  handle,  it  seems  clear  enough  that  there  is  to  be 
a  revolution  of  conditions  behind  the  proscenium 
arch.  And  of  course  there  will  be  consequent  changes 
in  architectural  requirements.  It  even  is  possible 
that  there  will  follow  a  complete  elimination  of  the 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    219 

scenery  loft,  which  always  has  proved  architecturally 
troublesome. 

The  revolving  stage  is  less  new  as  a  feature  of  the 
advanced  playhouse.  Already  it  has  found  its  way 
into  several  American  theatres.  The  architect  should 
know  of  it,  although  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  often 
will  be  able  to  convince  his  manager-client  that  its 
installation  is  worth  the  extra  expenditure  for  the 
necessary  increased  ground  space.  It  allows  three 
or  four  scenes  to  be  set  at  once,  one  after  another 
being  swung  into  the  proscenium  opening  without 
any  resetting,  thus  cutting  down  the  tiresome  waits 
between  acts  to  a  very  few  minutes.  To  serve  the 
same  purpose  the  so-called  "alternate  stage"  system 
has  been  installed  in  certain  European  playhouses. 
Two  stage  platforms  are  built  on  rollers.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  act  the  platform  with  the  first  setting 
slides  off  to  one  side,  and  the  other  stage,  already 
set  for  the  second  act,  is  rolled  into  place  behind  the 
proscenium.  Then  while  that  act  is  playing  the  dis- 
placed platform  is  prepared  for  the  third  act.  A 
similar  ingenious  arrangement  is  that  by  which  one 
stage  sinks  out  of  sight  to  allow  another  to  take  its 
place. 

The  architect  should  know,  too,  of  the  new  double 
proscenium  arch  that  has  made  its  appearance  in 
several  Continental  theatres.  This  invention  has  ap- 
peared in  several  forms.  The  first  is  an  immovable 
strip  of  wall  extending  up  on  both  sides  of  the  stage 


220  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

and  across  the  top,  and  built  between  the  large  outer 
proscenium  frame  and  a  smaller  inner  frame.  A 
second  form  is  very  similar  except  that  the  top  and 
side  walls  merely  slide  into  place  when  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  play  calls  for  a  stage  smaller  than  the 
outer  opening  would  afford;  the  temporary  inner 
frame  thus  is  removable  at  will,  while  the  true  or 
outer  frame  is  stationary.  By  a  convention  that  has 
not  yet  proved  its  adaptability  to  all  types  of  drama, 
the  walls  between  the  two  frames  usually  are  pierced 
by  two  doorways,  one  on  each  side,  through  which 
the  actors  occasionally  make  entrances  and  exits — as 
if  they  were  coming  from  one  room  of  the  house  into 
another,  if  the  set  is  an  interior,  or  from  a  house  to 
the  out-of-doors  if  the  stage  represents  an  exterior. 
A  third  form  of  improved  proscenium  is  the  flexible 
or  adjustable  arch,  by  which  the  opening  can  be  en- 
larged or  contracted  to  any  desired  size.  It  is  prob- 
ably the  type  that  ultimately  will  be  perfected  and 
generally  adopted. 

The  architect  who  designs  a  theatre  with  provision 
only  for  the  older  systems  of  stage  lighting  may  be 
sure  that  his  building  will  be  out  of  date  in  a  very 
few  years.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Illumination 
chiefly  by  footlights  is  a  passing  phase,  and  that  dif- 
fused top  and  side  lights  will  take  its  place — with 
the  footllght  retained  perhaps  as  a  comparatively 
unimportant  auxiliary.  The  Fortuny  system  of  Hght- 
ing,  recently  perfected  in  Germany,  is  a  notable  ad- 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE     221 

vance  over  all  other  methods,  and  is  a  revolutionary 
change  from  the  illumination  systems  of  ten  years 
ago.  Instead  of  the  glaring  direct  lights,  to  which 
we  have  become  hardened  by  sad  experience,  though 
hardly  satisfied,  the  Fortuny  apparatus  diffuses  over 
the  stage  softened  light  rays  reflected  from  scientifi- 
cally chosen  silken  bands.  The  result  is  a  remark- 
ably pleasing  and  unobtrusive  "atmospheric"  light, 
which  envelops  instead  of  strikes  the  objects  on  the 
stage.  As  an  accompaniment  of  the  Fortuny  method 
of  stage  illumination,  there  has  been  invented  the 
Fortuny  "firmament"  or  horizon,  a  background  de- 
signed to  do  away  with  the  always  unsatisfactory 
painted  "back-cloth."  This  "horizon"  is  a  concave 
wall  which  is  set  up,  or  built  in,  at  the  back  of  the 
stage,  with  a  surface  of  such  texture  that  the  light 
rays  reflected  against  it  give  the  effect  of  infinite 
distance.  When  used  behind  scenes  "in  the  round" 
It  affords  the  eye  a  perfectly  neutral  and  restful 
background,  without  drawing  attention  from  the 
foreground — as  did  the  inevitable  perspective  scenes 
of  the  inartistic  "back-cloth."  Both  the  Fortuny 
lighting  system  and  the  "horizon"  are  patented  im- 
provements, which  may  be  used  only  by  arrangement 
with  a  German  firm.  But  the  architect  who  does  not 
provide  space  in  a  theatre  building  for  both  features, 
or  their  equivalents,  fails  grievously  in  his  duty  to 
his  client;  for  they  will  supersede  the  current  systems 
inevitably. 


222  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

There  are  certain  evolutionary  changes  taking 
place  before  the  curtain  as  well  as  behind.  In  regard 
to  both  general  shape  and  lighting  of  the  auditorium, 
there  are  well-defined  tendencies  in  the  "advanced" 
buildings. 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  a  very  noticeable  ten- 
dency to  discard  the  traditional  horseshoe  form  of 
auditorium.  The  shapes  in  the  newer  Continental 
theatres  usually  are  more  rectangular,  and  the  over- 
hanging balconies  are  fast  being  discarded.  The 
pitch  of  the  main  floor  is  being  steepened,  the  almost 
straight  rows  of  seats  being  arranged  in  the  "amphi- 
theatre" form — using  the  term  in  its  technical  rather 
than  its  original  meaning.  Both  this  tendency  in 
auditorium  shaping  and  the  development  of  the  dou- 
ble prosceniurn  may  be  traced  back  to  Wagner's 
theories  of  theatre  production.  The  boxes  are  slowly 
disappearing,  as  is  only  natural;  in  a  democratic 
country  especially,  one  can  only  wonder  at  the  reten- 
tion of  a  feature  that  is  simply  a  concession  to  af- 
fectation, and  a  pandering  to  the  vanities  of  the 
well-to-do. 

In  lighting  the  auditorium  there  is  a  very  natural 
and  very  welcome  tendency  to  do  away  with  the 
heavy,  glass  bespangled  chandeliers,  and  with  the 
glaring  rows  of  unmasked  lights,  which  so  long  have 
outraged  the  sensibilities  of  theatregoers.  Diffused 
or  reflected  light  ultimately  will  replace  entirely  the 
garish  direct  illumination  which  was  the  universal 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    223 

rule  until  a  very  few  years  ago;  and  the  graduated 
switchboard  will  do  away  with  those  sudden  changes 
from  light  to  dark  and  from  dark  to  blinding  light, 
that  are  such  a  shock  even  to  normal  eyes.  The 
architect  who  continues  to  design  theatres  with  the 
accepted  systems  of  auditorium  lighting  commits  a 
crime  against  both  art  and  public  health. 

Returning  now  from  the  consideration  of  the 
newer  developments  in  practical  details  to  the  matter 
of  the  theoretical  reflection  of  the  spirit  of  the  drama 
in  the  architecture,  let  us  see  what  actual  progress 
has  been  made  toward  the  accomplishment  of  the 
ideal  playhouse.  In  Germany,  more  than  in  any 
other  country,  the  new  ideas  have  found  concrete 
expression.  In  Germany  there  are  a  number  of 
theatres  that  actually  are  dignified,  restful  and  har- 
monious throughout:  that  are  not  overdecorated  and 
vulgarly  ornate.  The  name  of  Professor  Max  Litt- 
mann  immediately  comes  to  mind  as  that  of  the  most 
successful  of  the  designers  of  theatres  of  the  new 
type.  Beginning  with  a  form  that  was  a  close  ap- 
proximation to  the  traditional  building,  Professor 
Littmann  very  gradually  has  progressed  to  a  style 
that  is  the  very  antithesis  of  the  accepted  theatre. 
Varying  his  buildings  to  suit  the  varying  requirements 
of  necessary  seating  capacity,  kind  of  drama  to  be 
presented,  and  harmony  with  site  and  surrounding 
architecture,  he  still  has  managed  to  carry  through 
most  of  his  facades  a  simplicity,  a  dignity,  and  a 


224  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

sense  of  restfulness,  that  are  in  perfect  keeping  with 
the  inmost  spirit  of  the  drama.  The  little  Munich 
Art  Theatre  is  perhaps  the  one  of  his  works  that  is 
best  known  to  Americans,  and  it  exhibits  very  satis- 
factorily the  qualities  of  one  phase  of  his  art.  It  is 
indeed  a  refreshing  bit  of  restrained  design,  and  in 
every  way  quite  the  opposite  of  the  playhouses  we 
know.  It  is  not  to  be  thought  that  Professor  Litt- 
mann  and  his  fellows  in  the  new  movement  forget 
the  utilitarian  bases  of  design  in  their  passion  for 
artistic  expression.  On  the  contrary  they  meet 
frankly  every  requirement  of  use,  letting  their  artistic 
ideal  find  its  root  in  fitness  to  purpose. 

There  are  other  architects  in  Germany  who  are 
working  to  the  same  ideal,  but  their  buildings  are 
neither  so  numerous  nor  so  generally  successful  as 
those  of  Professor  Littmann.  And  again  there  are 
those  who  have  broken  away  from  traditional  types 
simply  for  the  sake  of  revolt,  producing  theatres 
quite  as  inappropriate  in  their  sensationalism  and 
bizarreness  as  the  older  buildings  are  in  their  com- 
monplaceness. 

While  the  movement  is  most  advanced  in  Ger- 
many, there  is  by  no  means  a  condition  of  stagnation 
in  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  almost  every  country 
there  are  a  few  architects  who  are  working  with  the 
artists  of  the  theatre  to  develop  a  type  of  playhouse 
worthy  of  the  new  drama.  Even  in  America  there 
are  definite  beginnings  of  a  better  era  in  theatre  archi- 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    225 

tecture.  In  discussing  the  few  worthy  examples,  we 
may  pass  by  the  entirely  satisfying  Greek  Theatre 
of  the  University  of  California  with  only  a  word, 
because  it  is  based  upon  the  traditionally  beautiful 
and  dignified  theatres  of  ancient  Greece.  The  archi- 
tect deserves  all  credit  for  re-creating  the  original 
beauty  of  the  type  while  adapting  it  to  modern  needs, 
and  for  not  modernizing  (synonym  for  vulgarizing) 
its  decorative  features.  But  it  is  in  two  theatres  In 
New  York,  the  Little  Theatre  and  the  Maxine  El- 
liott Theatre,  that  one  finds  the  new  Ideals  actually 
incorporated  In  so-called  commercial  playhouses. 

In  the  Little  Theatre  there  is  a  welcome  tendency 
toward  simplification  both  within  and  without.  There 
still  is  evidence  of  a  fear  of  blank  spaces,  an  occa- 
sional tendency  to  break  up  the  large  masses  with 
unnecessary  decoration.  But  on  the  other  hand  there 
Is  a  simple  form  of  auditorium,  without  boxes  and 
without  overhanging  balconies.  There  is  a  certain 
dignity  and  avoidance  of  empty  pretentiousness 
throughout,  and  a  gratifying  absence  of  plush  and  of 
tinsel.  It  is  a  step  in  the  right  direction — perhaps 
the  most  notable  one  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

The  fagade  of  the  Maxine  Elliott  Theatre  is  per- 
haps the  most  beautiful  playhouse  exterior  in  the 
country.  Its  quiet  loveliness,  its  perfect  restfulness, 
its  dignified  sense  of  decorative  restraint,  mark  it  as 
a  building  conceived  in  just  the  spirit  the  drama 
should  evoke  in  the  architect.    It  is  a  fine  contrast  to 


THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  thoughtless  spacing  and  the  meaningless  decora- 
tion of  a  score  of  theatre  facades  close  by.  Its  in- 
terior is  less  satisfying  than  that  of  the  Little  Theatre 
because  it  is  less  restful,  and  less  innocent  of  pre- 
tentiousness. And  one  wonders  how  the  designers 
of  that  chaste  exterior  could  ever  have  brought  into 
the  building  the  glaring  glass-bespangled  chandelier 
that  lights  the  auditorium.  But  the  total  effect  is  so 
much  better  than  the  average  that  perhaps  the  critic 
should  overlook  the  few  defects,  and  only  praise  the 
understanding  of  the  architects,  and  their  bravery  in 
defying  the  inartistic  traditions  of  playhouse  building. 

The  Chicago  Little  Theatre,  hardly  more  than  a 
toy  playhouse,  has  seen  fit  to  have  its  auditorium  dec- 
orated with  the  reticence  and  dignity  one  would 
expect  In  a  tasteful  public  library  or  private  house. 
It  is  a  hopeful  sign,  since  the  ideals  of  the  experi- 
mental or  radical  theatre  of  to-day  are  usually  those 
of  the  accepted  theatre  of  to-morrow.  Indeed  there 
are  in  America  a  number  of  welcome  indications  of 
a  revolt  against  the  false  conventions  and  vicious  tra- 
ditions that  have  strangled  the  art  of  theatre  archi- 
tecture for  so  long. 

So  one  may  dream  of  the  coming  of  the  day  when 
there  will  be  in  America  theatres  worthy  to  house  the 
drama  that  brings  us  close  to  a  sense  of  the  great 
mysteries  of  the  human  soul.  Then,  when  the  lights 
are  turned  up  after  a  performance,  the  minds  that 
have  been  beguiled  from  distracting  realities  to  a 


ON  THEATRE  ARCHITECTURE    227 

land  of  beauty  will  not  be  shocked  back  to  an  immedi- 
ate realization  of  the  vulgarity  of  the  real  world; 
but  rather  will  the  sensation  of  rapturous  pleasure, 
and  the  mood  of  poetic  wonder,  be  intensified  by  the 
sensuous  enjoyment  of  the  harmonious  and  reposeful 
beauty  of  the  building.  But  the  ideal  will  be  realized 
only  when  the  artist-architect  has  dreamed  that 
dream,  and  then  brooded  over  it,  and  then  worked 
with  perfect  understanding  and  with  infinite  patience 
for  its  embodiment  in  wood  and  steel  and  stone. 


IX 

ON    APPLAUSE    IN   THE   THEATRE 


"X 


ON    APPLAUSE    IN   THE   THEATRE 

Of  late  there  has  been  a  growing  conviction, 
among  those  concerned  with  the  drama,  that  theatre 
production  is  properly  an  art.  As  an  art  its  appeal 
is  dependent  upon  the  spectator's  uninterrupted  con- 
templation of  the  play,  and  upon  the  sustained  mood 
that  is  evoked  in  the  audience.  Anything  that  tends 
to  destroy  that  sustained  mood  is  clearly  a  contribu- 
tive  cause  of  the  failure  of  the  art  to  reach  its  full 
perfection. 

Gradually  we  are  learning  thatin  a  play  of  serious 
intent  it  is  inexcusable  for  the  manager  to  introduce 
sensational  incidents  or  theatrical  effects  that  are  not 
organic  to  the  dramatic  structure — no  matter  how 
interesting  the  incidents  may  be  per  se;  and  we  feel 
that  it  is  an  impertinence  in  the  actor  to  introduce 
individual  "stunts"  that  are  unrelated  to  the  story 
or  the  character  he  is  portraying;  and  we  no  longer 
feel  grateful  for  the  over-spectacular  "scenery"  and 
the  conspicuously  natural  settings  that  distract  the 
eye  from  the  action.  Those  are  some  of  the  Inter- 
ruptions to  our  sustained  mood  that  come  from  be- 

23I5 


232  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

hind  the  footlights.  But  now  let  us  turn  the  search- 
light the  other  way,  until  it  shines  on  ourselves — the 
audience — and  see  whether  we  cause  any  interrup- 
tions to  the  essential  action,  and  to  the  sustained 
mood  that  it  is  supposed  to  create. 

Frankly  now,  do  we  not  cause  even  more  than 
one-half  of  the  interruptions  during  an  average  pro- 
duction? Do  we  not,  by  applause,  clog  the  action, 
disconcert  the  actors,  if  they  are  attempting  to  get 
into  the  spirit  of  their  parts,  and  destroy  whatever 
sustained  mood  may  have  taken  possession  of  our 
faculties  during  the  preceding  action?  Are  we  not 
doing  more  than  the  worst  efforts  of  the  scene  paint- 
ers, and  more  than  the  most  bungling  actor  on  the 
stage,  to  destroy  the  illusion  that  is  necessary  to  the 
play's  perfect  appeal?  It  seems  very  stupid  of  us; 
and  yet  we,  collectively,  go  on,  night  after  night, 
clapping  our  boisterous  way  to  Philistinism — drag- 
ging down  to  vaudeville  level  plays  that  would  be 
works  of  art  if  produced  in  perfect  silence. 

Neither  applause  nor  any  other  interruption  mat- 
ters in  those  "shows"  that  may  be  classed  as  belong- 
ing to  the  business  of  amusement  rather  than  to  any 
dignified  and  serious  art  of  the  theatre.  The  re- 
views, the  musical  comedies,  the  farces  and  bur- 
lesques and  melodramas,  all  are  dependent  upon 
episodic  appeal;  there  is  no  built-up  dramatic  interest 
to  be  destroyed.  So  anything  that  the  actor  can 
interpolate  to  help  keep  the  audience  in  a  gale  of 


ON  APPLAUSE  IN  THE  THEATRE     233 

laughter,  and  anything  that  the  spectator  can  do  to 
make  him  more  pleased  with  himself,  may  be  per- 
fectly in  place.  The  plea  for  a  silent  auditorium 
applies  only  in  the  case  of  those  productions  that 
make  pretense  of  being  unified  works  of  art:  the 
comedies  that  bring  a  deeper  response  than  mere  idle 
laughter,  the  tragedies,  and  the  so-called  story- 
dramas.  But  such  plays  are  built  with  a  certain 
climactic  progression  In  each  act,  designed  to  hold 
the  audience  with  an  increasing  and  sustained  inter- 
est; and  certainly  applause  at  any  time  while  the 
curtain  is  up  during  their  production  is  a  shock  to 
the  mind  that  Is  deeply  attentive. 

It  is  worth  while  to  follow  the  indictment  In  more 
detail,  first  as  it  concerns  the  actor,  and  then  as  it 
concerns  the  mood  of  the  audience. 

It  is  probable  that  if  a  poll  were  taken  of  a  dozen 
leading  actors,  the  resultant  verdict  would  be  against 
any  demonstration  in  the  auditorium  before  the  fall 
of  the  curtain.  Doubtless  thunderous  applause  Is  a 
gratifying  tribute  to  the  success  of  the  actor's  repre- 
sentation; but  to  the  man  or  woman  of  fine  sensibih- 
ties,  who  Is  attempting  to  get  into  the  very  mood  of 
his  or  her  part,  it  cannot  but  be  disconcerting.  It 
not  only  breaks  Into  the  actor's  preoccupation,  but  it 
destroys  the  delicious  sense  of  intimacy  between  play- 
ers and  audience  that  comes  during  a  drama  of 
absorbing  situations.  Applause  is  not  necessary  to 
the  actor's  understanding  of  the  success  of  his  in- 


234  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

terpretation.  He  can  feel  instinctively  when  the 
audience  is  with  him.  The  breathless  attention,  the 
subtle  sense  of  hush  that  takes  possession  of  stage 
and  auditorium  alike,  is  more  flattering  evidence  that 
he  has  done  his  part  perfectly  than  the  noisiest  bursts 
of  clapping. 

The  "reception"  with  which  certain  theatregoers 
greet  the  first  appearance  of  the  play's  "star" — the 
round  of  applause  that  invariably  comes  when  an 
old  favorite  first  steps  upon  the  stage — cannot  be 
too  severely  condemned.  It  is  an  unwarranted 
thrusting  of  both  actor  and  audience  into  the  play- 
wright's picture-frame.  In  any  work  of  dramatic 
art  the  actor's  personality  should  be  sunk  as  far  as 
possible  in  the  character  portrayed;  and  the  personal 
opinions  of  the  audience,  on  actors  or  any  other  sub- 
ject, should  be  absolutely  effaced  during  the  time  of 
action.  That  the  "reception"  is  an  embarrassment 
to  those  actors  and  actresses  who  truly  care  for  the 
art  of  the  stage,  the  habitual  theatregoer  cannot 
doubt.  There  always  is  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
while  the  action  halts,  a  constrained  bow  perhaps, 
and  usually  every  sign  of  embarrassment  as  the  actor 
changes  from  his  own  personality  back  to  that  of 
his  part.  The  actor  who  is  saddled  with  an  intro- 
ductory reception  of  applause  starts  with  a  serious 
handicap  In  gaining  a  sympathetic  response  from  his 
audience.     The  "reception"   is  perhaps  the  most 


ON  APPLAUSE  IN  THE  THEATRE     235 

stupid  of  all  the  audience's  intrusions  into  the  action 
of  the  play. 

As  to  the  effect  of  applause  upon  the  spectator, 
all  of  us  who  lose  ourselves  in  our  enjoyment  of  the 
play  can  testify.  Always  when  we  are  most  deeply 
absorbed,  when  the  dialogue  and  action  have  devel- 
oped to  that  point  which  should  be  most  deeply 
affecting,  there  is  a  sudden  ripple,  and  then  a  noisy 
burst  of  clapping  that  brings  our  minds  back  to  earth 
with  a  sickening  sense  of  the  reality  of  life,  with  a 
consequent  collapse  of  all  the  built-up  dramatic 
mood.  The  enjoyment  of  drama  depends  to  a  great 
extent  upon  illusion — not  illusion  of  material  detail, 
but  of  imagination.  The  spectator  Imaginatively 
lives  through  the  action  taking  place  upon  the  stage. 
The  noise  of  applause  breaks  the  spell  absolutely. 
It  shatters  the  sense  of  illusion,  and  an  unpleasant 
consciousness  of  actual  surroundings  replaces  the 
soul's  enjoyment  of  an  imaginative  realm. 

It  is  curious  that  people  who  would  not  think  of 
applauding  in  the  middle  of  a  song  or  violin  solo  be- 
cause they  enjoyed  a  certain  passage,  will  break  into 
the  wildest  hand-clapping  when  they  particularly  ap- 
prove a  scene  or  a  sentiment  in  the  most  affecting 
part  of  an  act  on  the  stage.  They  would  call  it  a 
case  of  ill-breeding  were  anyone  thus  to  break  into  a 
concert  in  which  they  had  found  spiritual  enjoyment. 
Is  there  any  reason  why  it  is  less  a  case  of  ill-breeding 
when  the  interruption  comes  in  a  serious  play?    Is 


236  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

It  any  more  excusable  to  interrupt  one  of  the  close- 
knit  modern  dramas,  in  which  every  scene  has  a  defi- 
nite part  In  producing  the  cumulative  effect,  than  to 
similarly  Interrupt  a  musical  composition,  whose  sev- 
eral "movements"  certainly  are  no  more  closely  re- 
lated than  the  parts  of  an  act  of  a  drama?  Why 
should  good-breeding  condemn  the  one  interruption 
and  condone  the  other?  Would  not  a  little  more  con- 
sistency In  our  attitude  toward  the  two  sorts  of  works 
of  art  Indicate  that  our  good-breeding  is  something 
deeper  than  a  blind  following  of  what  we  see  others 
doing  or  not  doing? 

But,  It  is  objected,  surely  It  is  permissible  to  show 
one's  approval  of  the  play  and  of  the  acting;  and,  it 
is  asked,  why  should  the  actor  now  be  denied  his 
prerogative  of  receiving  the  plaudits  of  his  admirers 
In  the  way  in  which  he  has  been  receiving  them  for 
hundreds  of  years.  The  answer  Is  that  in  so  far  as 
the  desires  of  the  audience  and  the  traditional  privi- 
leges of  the  actor  clash  with  art,  they  must  be  done 
away  with.  But  there  Is  a  time  for  applause,  that 
allows  the  spectator  freedom  for  the  expression  of 
his  feeling,  and  the  actor  a  fitting  time  for  receiving 
that  expression.  Let  us  formulate  a  rule,  then,  as 
to  when  applause  is  In  place,  and  when  out  of  place. 
Briefly,  It  is  that  there  should  never  be  any  applause 
while  the  curtain  Is  up,  while  the  audience  Is  living 
in  the  scene  and  action  of  the  play;  but  after  the  cur- 
tain has  dropped  at  the  end  of  the  act,  when  the 


ON  APPLAUSE  IN  THE  THEATRE     237 

audience  has  momentarily  been  freed  from  the  il- 
lusion, and  the  actor  returned  to  his  own  personality, 
applause  is  legitimate.  But  even  then,  if  the  drama 
has  gripped  and  carried  the  spectator,  there  will  be 
a  moment  of  hush,  an  absolute  stillness,  after  the 
curtain  comes  down.  And  some  day  there  may  be 
plays  so  great,  and  audiences  so  delicately  respon- 
sive, that  there  will  be  perfect  silence  in  the  playhouse 
from  the  rising  of  the  first  curtain  to  the  falling  of 
the  last — a  time  when  the  spectator  will  silently 
leave  the  theatre  in  that  poignant  mood  of  ennobled 
detachment  from  worldly  things  that  is  experienced 
after  a  particularly  inspiring  church  service. 

The  church  and  the  serious  theatre  are  very  much 
alike  in  many  respects — particularly  in  the  depth  of 
their  spiritual  appeal.  Is  it  conceivable  that  noisy 
applause  after  the  sermon  and  the  singing  would  in- 
crease the  mood  of  abiding  calm  and  the  sense  of 
spiritual  contemplation  that  the  church  affords*^ 
Rather  let  us  have  more  of  the  reverent  silence  of 
the  church  in  the  theatre — at  least  while  the  action 
is  passing. 

Aside  from  the  arguments  against  applause  on  the 
ground  of  its  breaking  into  the  sustained  mood  and 
shattering  the  illusion,  there  are  certain  more  prac- 
tical reasons  for  its  elimination  during  the  play's 
actual  progress.  The  time  element  must  be  taken 
into  consideration;  a  play  often  is  retarded  from 
fifteen  minutes  to  half  an  hour  by  the  interpolated 


238  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

applause.  Clearly,  if  It  has  been  designed  for  a  full 
evening's  entertainment,  it  must  be  shortened  by  that 
much,  or  the  audience  kept  considerably  beyond  the 
usual  time  limit.  Either  alternative  has  its  serious 
disadvantages.  Again,  if  the  audience  must  have  its 
chance  to  greet  the  star  with  introductory  applause, 
the  playwright  must  carefully  arrange  the  entrances 
for  that  "reception,"  involving  an  unfair  restriction 
on  his  treatment  of  his  material.  And  if  there  are  to 
be  bursts  of  applause  after  the  expression  of  every 
fine  sentiment,  and  in  the  midst  of  each  particularly 
affecting  or  pleasing  scene,  the  dramatist  must  in 
each  case  pad  the  following  dialogue  with  unimpor- 
tant matter,  so  that  the  audience  will  lose  nothing 
vital  while  the  house  is  quieting  down.  All  of  which 
is  an  unwarranted  twisting  of  a  work  of  art  to  meet 
the  senseless  demands  of  a  thoughtless  public. 

The  plea  for  the  elimination  of  applause  during 
the  action  is  not  a  new  one.  It  has  been  made  many 
times  by  those  most  deeply  interested  in  the  art  of 
the  theatre.  Gordon  Craig  often  has  voiced  his 
protest  against  the  noise  of  clapping  in  the  playhouse. 
And  very  recently,  when  "John  Bull's  Other  Island" 
was  being  presented  at  the  Kingsway  Theatre  in 
London,  Bernard  Shaw  wrote  an  open  letter  to  the 
audiences,  with  a  characteristic  arraignment  of  their 
rudeness  in  interrupting  his  play  with  clapping  and 
unrestrained  laughter.  But  the  plea  for  the  silent 
auditorium  cannot  be  made  too  often.     Indeed  it 


ON  APPLAUSE  IN  THE  THEATRE    239 

must  be  made  continually  until  theatregoers  realize 
its  importance  and  heed  it. 

How  can  it  be  made  most  effectively?  Obviously 
neither  Gordon  Craig  nor  Bernard  Shaw,  nor  any 
other  writer  about  the  drama,  can  reach  more  than 
a  very  small  proportion  of  the  theatregoing  public. 
In  only  one  way  can  the  matter  be  brought  before 
just  those  people  who  must  be  reached :  through  the 
theatre  program.  When  there  is  found  one  manager 
— or  better,  a  group  of  managers — who  will  insert 
in  the  program  a  request  that  the  audience  shall  re- 
frain from  any  demonstration  of  approval  until  the 
fall  of  the  curtain,  then  the  movement  against  sense- 
less applause  will  be  started  in  earnest.  Doubtless 
the  managers  will  feel  that  such  a  request  might  be 
taken  as  a  reflection  on  the  intelligence  and  manners 
of  the  spectators.  Let  it  be  so  taken ;  it  is  no  more 
a  reflection  than  the  now  familiar  request  that  ladies 
remove  their  hats.  It  is  quite  as  important  that  one 
shall  hear  the  dialogue  undisturbed  as  that  one  shall 
have  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  stage.  If  the  man- 
ager can  make  the  one  rule  effective,  he  can  quite  as 
readily  enforce  the  other. 

Let  us  hope  that  at  least  one  American  manager 
will  recognize  to  what  extent  the  usual  clapping 
destroys  the  effect  of  his  productions,  and  will  make 
the  suggested  prohibition.  When  it  once  has  been 
tried,  the  others  will  follow  gradually — for  it  is  the 
natural  thing,  and  is  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later. 


240  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

And  in  the  meantime,  let  us  who  go  often  to  the 
theatre  do  our  part,  by  keeping  silent  when  we 
should,  and  by  spreading  the  gospel  of  silence  when- 
ever the  opportunity  offers. 

Let  us  do  our  best  to  have  more  art  and  less  noise 
in  the  playhouse. 


X 

A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE 


'M   NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE 


It  always  is  less  profitable  to  theorize  than  to 
practise  when  an  art  is  close  to  one's  heart.  And  yet 
in  the  matter  of  the  theatre,  where  so  much  energy 
has  been  spilled  uselessly  in  weaving  and  unweaving 
conflicting  theories,  there  is  to-day  more  than  ever 
before  the  temptation  to  undertake  the  disengaging 
of  the  tangled  threads  of  dramatic  aesthetics.  For 
never  in  any  art  was  there  greater  need  for  a  sound 
theoretic  basis  of  judgment  than  that  which  now 
exists  in  the  field  of  drama.  When  those  who  should 
be  most  jealous  to  guard  all  that  is  vital  and  true  in 
dramatic  art  continually  are  denying.jh.e-  badge  of 
dramatic  legitimacy  to  the  creations  alike  of  Gordon 
Craig  and  of  Brieux,  because,  perforce,  they  do  not 
conform  to  the  rules  of  an  aesthetic  system  formu- 
lated when  mankind  had  developed  only  one  of  the 
several  characteristic  arts  of  the  theatre;  and  when 
the  so-called  authorities  are  judging  Leon^Bakst  and 
Bernard  Shaw  by  the  same  set  of  principles,  and 

243 


244  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

moreover  pushing  both  out  from  the  theoretic  struc- 
ture because  they  are  not  easily  squeezed  into  the 
moulds  that  were  chiselled  to  fit  Sophocles  and 
Shakespeare:  the  need  for  an  all-embracing  new 
theory  is  painfully  evident. 

What  recently  has  happened  in  the  theatre  so  to 
confuse  the  authorities  is  this :  a  few  clear-sighted  ar- 
tists have  disregarded  the  traditional  conventions  and 
the  old  theoretical  standards  of  the  playhouse,  and 
have  been  busy  creating  forms  of  drama  of  which 
the  theorists  of  yesterday  had  not  so  much  as 
dreamed.  The  old  boundaries  have  been  pushed  out 
and  the  field  of  the  arts  of  the  theatre  has  been  mag- 
nificently widened.  The  actual  practice  has  outgrown 
all  the  accepted  formulas  of  the  old  dramatic 
aesthetics;  and  now  there  Is  nothing  for  the  theorists 
to  do  but  accept  the  fact  and  reconsider  their  prin- 
ciples in  the  light  of  the  new  achievement.  But  so 
far  no  one  of  them  has  regained  his  perspective  suffi- 
ciently to  map  out  the  much-needed  new  basis. 

There  is  no  more  barren  work  for  the  lover  and 
student  of  the  drama  than  pursuing  the  sophistries 
of  the  learned  aestheticians.  When  one  begins  to 
wander  in  philosophical  jungles  and  metaphysical 
wastes,  the  human  joy  is  gone  out  of  art.  So  the 
present  writer  has  no  intention  of  trying  to  solve 
the  subtle  problems  of  aesthetic  readjustment  implied 
in  the  recent  enormous  advance  of  theatric  and  dra- 
matic art.    Nor  does  he  pretend  that  any  hard-and- 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  245 

fast  set  of  principles  can  serve  as  a  foundation  for 
actual  practice;  for  vital  art  grows  out  of  independ- 
ent experiment  and  not  from  conformance  to  rule. 
But  it  is  worth  while  to  attempt  to  build  up  an  explicit 
new  theory  that  will  serve  as  a  guide  for  the  student, 
indicating  simply  and  untechnlcally  the  distinctive 
characteristics  of  the  several  dramatic  arts.  Only 
thus  can  a  clear  basis  be  established  for  judging  the 
significance  of  the  new  movement  in  the  theatre,  and 
especially  of  those  forms,  typically  artistic  and  typi- 
cally theatric,  that  are  outside  the  bound^qf^the  old 
criticism. 


II 


It  is  necessary  first  to  re-establish  the  outside  lim- 
its of  the  activities  of  the  theatre  and  of  drama.  It 
is  a  common  mistake  to  consider  that  there  is  only 
one  true  dramatic  art,  which  is  equally  the  typical  art 
of  the  theatre.  In  truth  there  are  several  legitimate 
arts  of  the  theatre,  each  yielding  its  peculiar  sort  of 
artistic  pleasure ;  and,  while  all  the  forms  that  now 
are  fully  developed  are  dramatic  in  some  measure, 
it  is  necessary  to  recognize  that  certain  ones  are  more 
characteristically  dramatic  and  others  more  typically 
theatric.  The  failure  to  understand  this  distinction 
lias  rendered  invalid  most  of  the  judgment  and  criti- 
cism of  the  new  achievement  in  the  theatre. 

In  order  to  build  sound  new  definitions  of  theatric 


246  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

and  dramatic  art  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to  the 
derivative  meanings  of  the  terms.  "Theatre"  origi- 
nally meant  merely  "a  place  for  seeing";  and 
"drama"  originally  meant  simply  "that  which  is 
done."  Both  definitions  imply  action  as  the  one  es- 
sential qualit}';  and  indeed  every  later  definition 
either  of  the  theatre  or  of  drama  emphasizes  the  ele- 
ment of  action.  But  the  special  point  that  so  seldom 
has  been  remarked  before,  and  yet  is  so  important 
in  the  light  of  recent  progress,  is  this:  that  there 
clearly  is  a  difference  as  well  as  a  likeness  implied  in 
the  two  definitions;  that  in  the  one  case  the  word 
"seeing"  suggests  primarily  visible,  or  physical,  ac- 
tion, in  the  sense  of  movement;  while  in  the  other  the 
expression,  "that  which  is  done,"  suggests  something 
accomplished,  in  the  sense  of  development — as  for 
instance  story-development,  or  character-develop- 
ment. 

While  it  still  is  impossible  to  isolate  an  art  of  the 
theatre  that  is  not  to  some  extent  dramatic,  it  is  not 
at  all  impossible  to  conceive  of  one :  an  art  visually 
effective,  but  without  a  suspicion  of  cumulative  dra- 
matic growth ;  and  while  we  now  may  use  the  terms 
"arts  of  the  theatre"  and  "dramatic  arts"  inter- 
changeably, it  is  profitable  to  make  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  arts  that  are  more  typically  theatric,  that 
is,  more  dependent  upon  the  visual  appeal  of  move- 
ment, and  those  that  are  more  typically  dramatic, 
that  is,  dependent  upon  an  inner  development  or 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  247 

growth.  We  shall  find,  too,  this  further  difference : 
that  in  the  one  case  the  elements  which  the  artist 
emphasizes,  aside  from  action,  also  are  visual,  as 
line  and  mass,  color,  and  light  and  shadow;  whereas 
in  the  other  case  the  necessary  visual  elements  (neces- 
sary because  action  of  any  sort  must  have  background 
or  setting)  are  subordinated,  and  spoken  words  be- 
come a  very  important  part  of  the  means  employed 
by  the  artist — language  being  the  most  expeditious 
aid  to  the  development  of  human  relationships. 

In  bringing  out  the  importance  of  words  as  one  of 
the  primary  means  employed  in  the  dramatic  arts 
of  the  second  sort,  it  is  necessary  to  guard  against 
the  misconception  of  "beautiful"  language  as  a  pri- 
mary aim  in  drama.  For  spoken  words  are  rightly 
but  a  method  of  developing  action  in  the  theatre, 
and  are  not  of  the  essence  of  drama  as  they  are  of 
literature.  Beautiful  language  is  rather  to  be  con- 
sidered as  bearing  the  relation  to  drama  that  beauti- 
ful color  bears  to  painting.  By  this  reservation  one 
avoids  the  false  assumption,  which  has  persisted  from 
the  time  of  the  Greeks  to  the  present  day,  that  the 
arts  of  the  theatre  are  merely  a  department  of  litera- 
ture, or  poetry. 

Our  conception  of  the  theatre,  then,  is  to  be  of 
an  art  which  is  essentially  based  upon  action,  and 
entirely  separate  from  literature  though  borrowing 
a  certain  beauty  from  that  art;  our  wider  definition 
of  action  including  that  which  is  of  the  nature  of 


248  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

movement,  implying  a  more  theatric  form  of  drama, 
and  that  which  is  of  the  nature  of  development, 
implying  a  more  truly  dramatic  sort  of  drama. 
And  whether  we  personally  take  the  greater  de- 
light in  productions  that  tend  to  the  one  extreme, 
or  to  the  other,  or  in  those  which  belong  to  the 
middle  ground,  we  may  not  deny  to  the  other  sorts 
their  legitimate  place  in  any  all-embracing  theory  of 
the  theatre;  we  may  only  say  that  the  special  artistic 
pleasure  afforded  by  the  one  form  is  more,  or  less, 
attuned  to  our  own  responsive  faculties. 


Ill 


There  are  certain  activities  of  the  theatre  which, 
though  usually  included  in  the  wider  definition  of 
art,  are  so  inconsequential  that  they  may  be  left  out 
of  any  consideration  of  what  is  vital  drama.  All 
art  entertains;  but  the  pleasure  it  affords  is  enter- 
tainment in  a  higher  sense  than  mere  amusement. 
Those  harmless  pastimes  that  often  are  accepted 
by  an  indulgent  public  as  real  dramatic  art,  but 
that  do  not  give  the  peculiarly  serious  sort  of  pleas- 
ure of  the  higher  forms  of  art,  may  fairly  be  set 
aside  as  mere  indifferent  offshoots  of  the  parent 
theatre;  and  it  is  only  with  the  latter  that  a  theory 
of  the  theatre  need  concern  itself. 

Thus  the  field  may  be  cleared  by  setting  aside: 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  249 

First,  farce;  because  pure  farce  has  only  a  surface 
appeal,  being  content  to  evoke  idle  laughter;  it  is 
amusement  pure  and  simple:  a  form  that  approaches 
art  only  as  it  attains  to  comedy  characteristics. 
Second,  melodrama;  for  melodrama  is  merely  the 
raw  material  of  art,  untouched  by  the  magic  of 
poetic  conception  or  poetic  treatment;  it  is  tragedy 
that  has  approached  the  ridiculous  instead  of  the 
sublime,  tricking  the  spectator  into  an  empty  sort 
of  emotional  response.  Third,  musical  comedies, 
and  revues,  and  "shows" ;  for  these  are  bastard 
forms  of  theatre  entertainment  that  are  frankly 
episodic  and  inconsequential,  appealing  to  the  lower 
senses  and  even  to  the  sex  instincts;  and  though 
they  may  have  a  gloss  of  art,  they  never  afford  a 
sustained  contemplative  pleasure.  And  fourth, 
vaudeville;  for  a  vaudeville  production  is  not  a  dis- 
tinct form,  but  a  heterogeneous  grouping  of  sev- 
eral miniature  productions,  one  or  two  of  which 
may  be  typically  artistic,  but  still  without  potentiality 
to  lend  dignity  to  the  whole;  vaudeville,  like  the 
circus,  is  in  its  total  aspect  essentially  inartistic,  a 
mere  commercial  corruption  of  art.  These  several 
sorts  of  entertainment  may  be  grouped  as  pertain- 
ing to  the  business  of  amusement;  and  as  such  they 
conveniently  may  be  considered  as  having  nothing 
to  do  with  the  arts  of  the  theatre  in  that  higher 
sense  in  which  we  conceive  of  art  as  a  thing  of 
seriousness,  dignity  and  completeness. 


250  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

The  field  under  consideration  may  further  be 
cleared  by  setting  aside  opera;  for  although  opera  is 
clearly  dramatic  in  structure,  it  is  a  bastard  form, 
with  an  inheritance  more  musical  than  dramatic. 
Its  primary  appeal  is  that  of  its  music;  and  it  may 
helpfully  be  omitted  from  the  present  discussion  as 
one  of  the  arts  of  music  rather  than  of  drama. 

The  true  art  of  the  theatre  or  of  drama  embraces 
the  remaining  sorts  of  play:  the  tragedy,  the  com- 
edy, and  that  middle  sort  which  is  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other  but  partakes  of  the  serious  qualities 
of  both — that  the  French  call  drame,  and  that  we 
who  speak  English  label  merely  "drama"  for  lack 
of  a  more  precise  generic  term.  These  are  the 
activities  of  the  theatre  that  are  "serious,  complete, 
and  of  a  certain  magnitude,"  and  that  are  char- 
acterized, like  all  art,  by  unity  and  harmony  of 
parts. 

IV 

In  attempting  to  differentiate  the  several  forms 
of  serious  art  into  easily  recognizable  groups,  and 
in  that  way  to  arrive  at  a  basis  for  judging  the 
characteristic  significance  of  each  of  the  newer 
forms,  the  most  natural  test  is  that  of  the  dram- 
atist's emphasis  on  this  or  that  element  of  his  ma- 
terial. Three  dramatists  may  take  the  same  gen- 
eral material  and,  not  only  by  that  intangible  per- 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  251 

sonal  something  which  the  artist  adds,  but  by  a 
differing  conception  of  the  importance  of  this  or 
that  element,  arrive  at  results  widely  varying  in 
their  ways  of  appeal.  Thus  the  same  dramatic  skele- 
ton may  underlie  a  sensuous  production  of  the  Rus- 
sian Ballet  and  a  thought-provoking  drama  by  Shaw; 
the  same  story-plot  may  form  the  basis  of  a  gripping 
intensive  drama  by  Ibsen  and  a  loosely-joined  ex- 
tensive play  by  Shakespeare;  the  real  differences 
being  attributable  to  the  divergent  emphasis  on 
material  used.  The  differences  in  modes  of  em- 
phasis may  be  inferred  most  easily  from  the  dual 
conception  of  action:  first  the  emphasis  on  physical, 
or  outward,  beauties,  corresponding  to  the  concep- 
tion of  action  as  visual  movement;  and  second,  the 
emphasis  on  story-development  or  character  growth, 
corresponding  to  the  conception  of  action  as  mere 
development. 

It  is  impossible  to  isolate  the  method  of  expres- 
sion entirely  from  the  subject.  The  ultimate  ideal 
of  the  adherents  of  "art  for  art's  sake,"  an  abstract 
art  or  abstract  beauty,  is  impossible  to  realize.  Cer- 
tainly no  artist  has  succeeded  in  creating  a  form  with- 
out content,  a  method  of  artistic  appeal  without  sub- 
ject. But  there  is  a  beauty  of  outward  means  of 
expression  which  is  distinct  frftm  the  thing  expressed 
though  not  entirely  separable  from  It;  and  emphasis 
upon  It  will  create  drama  distinct  In  kind  from  that 
which  exists  primarily  for  the  subject.     And  when 


252  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

one  considers  subject  in  drama  one  may  easily  dis- 
criminate between  the  subject  that  is  primarily  a 
surface  story  of  outward  relationships  and  the  sub- 
ject that  exists  primarily  for  a  clash  of  inner  forces 
or  the  development  of  underlying  ideas — affording 
an  additional  distinction  between  subject-story  and 
subject-idea  or  theme.  Mindful  of  the  three  ideas 
thus  developed  we  may  venture  a  tentative  classi- 
fication according  to  emphasis :  first,  the  drama  that 
emphasizes  outward  beauty  of  form;  second,  the 
drama  that  emphasizes  story  for  its  own  sake;  and 
third,  the  drama  that  emphasizes  pervading  idea  or 
theme. 

This  new  triple  alignment  of  the  forms  of  serious 
drama,  while  deducible  primarily  from  the  new  con- 
ception of  the  meaning  of  action,  also  agrees  more 
closely  than  any  other  with  the  commonly  accepted 
conception  of  the  methods  of  appeal  in  art.  All 
art  affords  pleasure  of  three  sorts:  first,  the  sensu- 
ous pleasure  of  the  contemplation  of  beauty;  second, 
emotional  pleasure,  through  experiencing  the  inner 
feelings  that  the  artist  has  expressed  in  story;  and 
third,  intellectual  pleasure:  the  thoughtful  after-en- 
joyment that  Is  in  addition  to  the  pleasure  of  sensu- 
ous Impression  and  the  pleasure  of  emotional  experi- 
ence, the  enjoyment  of  a  second  meaning  that  is 
over  and  above  that  appearing  on  the  face  of  the 
action.  It  is  clear  how  closely  these  three  sorts  of 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  drama  correspond  in 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  253 

kind  to  the  three  modes  of  emphasis  already  enu- 
merated. With  the  two  tests — the  one  verifying  the 
other — we  surely  have  a  sufficient  basis  for  dividing 
the  field  of  the  arts  of  the  theatre  into  three  defi- 
nite groups.  These  may  be  termed  Illuminatingly : 
first,  the  asthetic  drama;  second,  the  drama  of  emo- 
tion; and  third,  the  drama  of  thought.  ~ 
The  ZEsthetic  drama  includes  all  those  arts  of 
the  theatre  which  emphasize  primarily  the  outward 
beauties  of  form,  of  movement,  of  line  and  mass, 
of  light,  and  even  of  sound — these  being  the  typ- 
ically theatric  arts,  that  appeal  primarily  to  the 
senses.  Th  drama  of  emotion  includes  those  dra- 
matic activities  In  which  the  emphasis  Is  chiefly  on 
story-development,  appealing  primarily  to  the  emo- 
tions, and  yielding  the  pleasure  of  deep  emotional 
experience.  The  drama  of  thought  includes  the 
forms  In  which  the  emphasis  Is  on  underlying  idea 
or  theme,  yielding  both  the  pleasure  of  emotional 
response  and  an  additional  intellectual  enjoyment. 
There  Is  no  art  of  the  theatre  that  may  not  fairly  be 
placed  in  one  of  the  groups  or  another.  Indeed 
the  classification  seems  so  logical  that  one  wonders 
why  commentators  have  not  made  It  before. 


254  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 


It  Is  a  part  of  the  arrogance  of  the  artist,  and 
perhaps  a  part  of  his  necessary  implicit  belief  in  his 
own  individual  method  that  he  should  consider  the 
form  he  creates  the  only  true  art,  impatiently  wav- 
ing aside  all  others  as  false  to  the  prime  artistic 
principles.  Thus  Gordon  Craig  may  arrogate  art 
to  the  first  group,  insisting  that  it  rightly  is  con- 
cerned only  with  the  creation  of  the  beauty  that 
appeals  to  the  senses  and  through  the  senses  to  the 
imagination,  at  the  same  time  vigorously  denounc- 
ing as  sacrilege  any  attempt  to  bring  the  artistic 
activities  close  to  life  or  into  the  service  of  humanity; 
whereas  Tolstoy  may  deny  the  name  of  art  to  that 
which  is  merely  sensuously  beautiful,  claiming  that 
it  affords  at  best  merely  an  anaesthetic  form  of  pleas- 
ure, and  reserving  the  name  of  true  art  for  those 
activities  that  not  only  move  men  deeply,  but  bring 
them  into  truer  and  more  sympathetic  relationship 
with  each  other.  But  may  not  we,  the  great  theatre- 
going  public,  be  more  tolerant?  May  not  we,  the 
lovers  of  art  in  all  its  forms,  well  be  content  to  widen 
our  definition  to  include  every  creation  of  the  artist 
that  gives  pleasure  in  any  of  the  three  ways?  We 
know  that  mere  sight  and  sound  may  bring  us  the 
healing  sense  of  beauty;  we  have  experienced  the 
peculiar  joy  of  living  through  a  dramatic  story;  our 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  255 

minds  have  caught  some  gleam  of  a  deeper  order 
of  truths  underlying  a  story;  and  we  know  that  all 
of  these  pleasures  seldom  have  come  to  us  except 
through  an  artist's  interpretation  of  life.  So  while 
we  may  profitably  study  the  unique  power  of  pro- 
ducing beauty  or  pleasure  that  is  resident  in  each 
kind,  we  shall  do  well  not  to  limit  the  arts  of  the 
theatre  or  any  of  the  other  arts  to  any  one  of  the 
three  groups. 

In  examining  in  turn  the  esthetic  dramai,  the 
drama  of  emotion,  and  the  drama  of  thought,  noting 
the  peculiar  characteristics  of  each,  it  is  necessary 
to  remember  that  the  differences  are  chiefly  in  em- 
phasis and  not  in  qualities  that  absolutely  dominate 
or  are  absolutely  lacking  in  each  form.  While  it 
is  easier  to  treat  of  extremes  for  clearness'  sake, 
there  must  be  the  mental  reservation  that  no  one 
production  is  pure  sesthetic  drama,  or  pure  drama 
of  emotion,  or  pure  drama  of  thought,  but  that  the 
groups  intertwine.  It  must  be  kept  in  mind  that 
there  always  is  a  marriage  of  form  and  matter: 
that  there  always  is  at  least  a  faint  subject-interest; 
and  that  on  the  other  hand,  while  the  emotions  and 
intellect  are  being  addressed  the  senses  very  surely 
feel  a  corresponding  beauty  of  impression  in  some 
small  measure.  And  the  preserving  of  this  per- 
vading harmony  of  appeal,  even  while  emphasizing 
one  element  and  subordinating  the  others,  should 
be  a  jealous  regard  of  every  dramatist. 


256  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

VI 

The  aesthetic  drama,  it  has  been  said,  is  the  drama 
of  emphasis  on  outward  form,  which  appeals  pri- 
marily to  the  senses.  It  is  the  art  of  the  theatre 
in  which  the  method  of  expression  counts  for  more 
than  the  thing  expressed.  Beauty  of  form  is  lifted 
above  beauty  of  content.  There  is  very  little  sub- 
ject-interest, and  the  subject  usually  is  removed  from 
actuality.  The  whole  emphasis  is  on  visual  aspects, 
on  the  decorative  value  of  movement,  of  line  and 
mass  and  color. 

It  is  the  art  of  the  theatre  that  tends  to  the  purely 
aesthetic,  in  the  old  narrow  sense  in  which  "aesthetic" 
meant  that  which  appeals  merely  to  the  senses.  It 
tends  to  "art  for  art's  sake,"  to  an  art  in  which 
it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  subject  from  form. 
It  is  removed  as  far  as  possible  from  the  literary 
arts,  and  approaches  close  to  music,  where  subject 
or  theme  is  most  nearly  indistinguishable  from  out- 
ward expression.  The  closest  parallel  in  the  field 
of  graphic  art  is  the  Japanese  print,  which  affords 
pleasurable  sensation  almost  exclusively  by  "the  cre- 
ative handling  of  pure  line  and  color,"  the  subject 
being  inconsequential  alike  to  artist  and  to  spectator. 

The  method  of  appeal  of  the  aesthetic  drama  is 
purely  sensuous.  The  eye  is  addressed,  and  not  the 
emotions  or  the  intellect.     Often  there  is  the  sym- 


'NT 


na 


AN  OPERA  SETTING   BY  JOSEPH  URBAN 

This  is  an  example  of  a  type  of  the  new  setting  that  is 
not  adaptable  to  pure  dramay  but  is  well  suited  to  opera^ 
wherein  the  dramatic  action  is  only  of  secondary  impor- 
tance. The  decorative  grouping,  the  plastic  setting,  and 
the  dependence  upon  lighting  for  atmospheric  effects,  are 
all  of  the  new  stage-craft;  but  the  new  simplicity  has  given 
way  to^an  elaboration  of  ornament  and  multiplication  of 
detail  that  would  "kill"  the  ordinary  dramatic  production. 
The  scene  is  from  a  production  at  the  Boston  Opera  House, 
where  Joseph  Urban,  an  Austrian  artist,  has  been  de- 
signing settings  that  are  far  in  advance  of  those  at  any 
other  American  opera  house. 


/■ 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  257 

pathetic  accompaniment  of  music,  affording  a  con- 
current appeal  to  the  ear.  The  effect  is  impression- 
istic, creating  mood,  not  thought.  In  its  finest  forms 
the  aesthetic  drama  may  reach  through  the  senses 
to  the  imagination,  liberating  the  spectator  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  world  and  bringing  a  sweet  sense  of 
remoteness  from  the  urgency  and  commonplaceness 
of  human  life.  In  its  most  poignant  moments  its 
effect  is  that  of  ravishing  music:  an  intangible  exalta- 
tion, a  soul  experience  that,  having  passed,  cannot 
readily  be  described  in  words. 

The  aesthetic  drama  Is  vital  art  If  It  is  vitally 
Important  that  the  drama  should  lift  the  spectator 
from  the  region  of  practical  life  to  a  region  of 
dreamy  enchantment.  It  bears  the  audience  away 
from  the  world's  realities,  but  never  invites  to  a 
contemplation  of  the  deeper  truths  of  life  and  the 
everlasting  mysteries  of  the  human  heart  and  soul. 
It  is  valuable  because  it  affords  a  refuge  from  the 
inherent  vulgarities  of  every-day  surroundings;  but 
is  not  of  deep  human  significance  because  it  gen- 
erally is  hardly  more  than  a  tickling  of  the  surface 
senses.  It  Is  pre-eminently  the  drama  of  exquisite  re- 
finement of  feeling;  It  Is  not  at  all  the  drama  of 
trenchant  after-thought.  It  may  act  as  a  blessed 
anaesthetic  to  the  mind;  but  It  never  stirs  the  soul, 
never  stimulates  fine  Impulses.  Its  greatest  virtue 
and  its  most  grievous  fault  are  expressed  in  this :  that 
it  is  the  art  of  sensuous  enchantment. 


258  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

It  always  is  Illuminating  to  place  the  theory  beside 
the  concrete  example.  Perhaps  the  truest  examples 
of  aesthetic  drama  are  the  arts  that  Gordon  Craig 
has  so  largely  created  or  re-created:  the  marionette 
drama  and  the  mimo-drama  of  living  actors.  In 
both  forms  the  appeal  is  almost  entirely  visual  and 
sensuous,  the  appeal  of  moving  figures  in  fluctuating 
patterns,  of  sinuous  line  and  harmonious  color,  of 
insinuating  lights  and  subtle  shadows.  The  dance- 
drama,  of  which  the  Russian  Ballet  is  typical,  is  a 
form  of  aesthetic  drama  in  which  the  appeal  is  purely 
to  the  senses  but  to  the  ear  as  well  as  to  the  eye. 
It  approaches  closer  to  opera  than  does  either  the 
marionette  drama  or  the  mimo-drama.  By  beauty 
of  movement,  of  line  and  mass  and  color,  and  by 
beauty  of  sound,  it  affords  a  synthetic  appeal  that  is 
at  once  visual  and  oral.  Spectacle,  in  so  far  as  it 
ever  exists  for  its  own  sake,  and  not  in  a  drama  of 
another  sort  (thus  affording  only  part  of  a  divided 
interest),  is  typical  visual  art,  and  typically  an  aes- 
thetic art  of  the  theatre.  In  all  of  these  examples  it 
is  noticeable  that  the  materials  do  not  include  spoken 
words ;  for  there  is  no  surer  way  to  subordinate  sub- 
ject-interest, or  literary  interest,  and  to  carry  the 
spectator  out  of  every-day  life,  than  by  leaving  out 
language  from  the  materials.  These  are  the  activi- 
ties of  the  theatre  that  are  most  typically  theatric  and 
least  dramatic.  An  absolute  preciseness  of  terms 
would  necessitate  calling  them  the  arts  of  the  theatre 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  259 

rather  than  the  arts  of  drama.  But  the  generic 
term  "aesthetic  drama"  and  the  individual  names 
"dance-drama"  and  "mimo-drama"  give  weight  to 
the  popular  precedent  of  confusing  "theatre"  and 
"drama"  as  synonyms. 


VII 


The  drama  of  emotion  has  been  described  as  the 
drama  that  appeals  primarily  by  story-development 
or  character-development  to  the  emotions.  Its  em- 
phasis is  on  story  for  its  own  sake,  on  character- 
plot  working  out  to  emotional  climax.  Its  essence 
is  action,  not  in  the  sense  of  movement,  but  in  the 
sense  of  development.  It  interests  by  the  changing 
relationships  of  the  characters;  it  is  the  art  of  soul- 
crises.  It  is  the  literary  rather  than  the  visual  art 
of  the  theatre,  in  that  the  development  comes  chiefly 
by  dialogue;  and  literary  beauty  may  increase  its 
attractiveness,  much  as  a  piece  of  lace  may  be  em- 
broidered into  a  woman's  dress,  adding  a  sort  of 
extraneous  beauty  but  not  disturbing  the  unity  and 
effectiveness  of  the  whole. 

The  drama  of  emotion  is  a  contrast  to  the  ses- 
thetlc  drama  in  that  beauty  of  form  is  subordinated 
to  truth  to  character.  The  outward  appeal  to  the 
eye  and  ear  is  merely  a  very  small  aid  to  the  effec- 
tiveness of  the  whole;  the  appeal  is  indeed  through 


26o  iTHE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

"sense-avenues,"  but  the  senses  are  utilized  not  as 
ultimate  aims  but  as  mere  carriers  to  the  inner 
emotions. 

The  drama  of  emotion  affords  enjoyment  by  actual 
emotional  experience.  The  spectator  in  effect  lives 
through  the  action  represented  on  the  stage.  The 
faculties  are  not  lifted  away  from  human  activities 
but  are  plunged  to  the  very  heart  of  human  life, 
are  brought  into  direct  contact  with  Its  inner  truths 
and  spiritual  essences.  As  there  always  is  some 
measure  of  mental  reaction  from  any  deep  emo- 
tional stimulus,  the  drama  of  emotion  is  very  closely 
allied  to  the  drama  of  thought;  it  remains  the  drama 
of  emotion  only  when  the  artist  is  concerned  pri- 
marily with  evoking  the  greatest  possible  emotional 
response,  irrespective  of  any  potential  mental 
reaction. 

The  drama  of  emotion  is  valuable  because  it  be- 
guiles the  faculties  not  indeed  away  from  reality, 
but  to  a  deeper  realization  of  the  beauty  and  good- 
ness of  life.  It  purges  the  mind,  and  leaves  the 
spectator  better  fortified  for  his  task  of  living.  And 
it  breeds  sympathy,  the  most  humanizing  of  all 
forces.  It  is  not  characterized  by  the  exquisite 
refinement  of  feeling  of  the  aesthetic  drama,  and  it 
does  not  stir  the  finer  impulses  as  does  the  drama 
of  thought,  but  it  does  good  In  the  world  by  yielding 
a  peculiarly  sympathetic  and  clarifying  sort  of 
enjoyment. 


!A;  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  261 

On  the  other  hand  the  drama  of  emotion  presents 
to  the  dramatist  the  constant  danger  of  falling  into 
artistic  insincerity.  There  is  a  sort  of  dramatic 
trickery,  bringing  a  false  sort  of  emotional  response, 
into  which  the  form  easily  degenerates.  The  dan- 
gerous facility  of  the  master  of  "the  well-made  play" 
may  thus  bring  forth  an  empty  dramatic  shell  that 
is  without  the  informing  light  of  the  true  artist's 
conception,  and  is  unredeemed  by  any  literary  dis- 
tinction, but  which  tricks  the  emotions  into  a  mo- 
mentary response. 

The  drama  of  emotion  may  be  found  in  its  most 
characteristic  phase  in  the  plays  of  Arthur  Pinero. 
Here  is  a  dramatist  who  confessedly  sets  out  with 
no  other  thought  than  to  evoke  from  his  audience 
the  greatest  possible  emotional  response.  He  has 
succeeded  in  accomplishing  his  aim  more  unequivoca- 
bly,  perhaps,  than  any  other  dramatist  has  succeeded 
in  realizing  this  or  any  other  dramatic  ideal.  It 
is  difficult  to  conceive  of  an  audience  leaving  a 
Pinero  play  in  that  mood  of  dreamy  enchantment, 
of  poetic  wonder,  that  might  be  evoked  by  a  fault- 
less aesthetic  drama ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  believe  that 
the  audience  would  feel  any  deep  social  conviction, 
that  they  would  go  away  to  brood  through  the  night 
"with  a  divine  discontent,"  that  might  indeed  become 
an  instigation  to  action — as  they  might  after  a  drama 
of  thought.  The  spectator  leaves  a  Pinero  play 
with  the  consciousness  of  having  lived  through  emo- 


262  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

tional  experiences  that  he  has  met  elsewhere  only 
at  the  one  or  two  moments  that  we  call  the  crises 
of  life ;  he  has  been  face  to  face  with  certain  deeply 
affecting  phases  of  life,  and  he  has  come  forth  with 
his  inner  self  purged,  and  with  a  sympathetic  feeling 
toward  other  men.  Henry  Arthur  Jones  is  only  less 
successful  than  Arthur  Pinero  in  achieving  the  ideal 
of  the  emotional  drama,  and  both  are  merely  the 
English  followers  of  the  French  school  that  apotheo- 
sized the  well-made  play.  The  drama  of  emotion  as 
illustrated  in  the  plays  of  Pinero  and  Jones  is  in  a 
sense  the  truest  of  the  typically  dramatic  arts.  It  is 
the  truest  drama  because  its  very  essence  is  action,  de- 
velopment, the  actual  working  out  of  destinies.  It 
is  less  the  typical  art  of  the  theatre  because  the  visual 
appeal  is  only  incidental. 


VIII 

The  drama  of  thought  is  emotional  drama  with  the 
emphasis  transferred  to  underlying  theme,  appeal- 
ing to  the  emotions  and  through  them  to  the  intel- 
lect. It  is  necessary  to  interpolate  the  statement 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  purely  intellectual 
art;  for  as  soon  as  the  intellect  is  directly  addressed, 
the  activity  becomes  argument  or  dialectic  or  some- 
thing equally  didactic  and  innocent  of  the  sensuous 
and  emotional  pleasures  peculiar  to  art.     But  art 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  263 

may  appeal  very  powerfully,  though  indirectly,  to  the 
intellect. 

In  the  drama  of  thought  story-development  is  em- 
phasized not  for  its  own  sake  but  as  illustrating 
theme.  Character  growth  is  emphasized  as  typical 
of  social  truth.  The  play  is  not  developed  primarily 
for  a  big  scene,  for  the  sole  end  of  a  strongly  emo- 
tional climax,  but  for  a  burning  idea,  for  social 
passion. 

The  spectator  lives  through  the  story,  and  having 
returned  to  reality  after  the  emotional  experience, 
finds  that  there  is  a  remainder  of  thought.  Through 
some  illuminating  inner  light  hidden  behind  the  sur- 
face story  he  unconsciously  has  received  a  message. 
The  drama  of  thought  is  the  drama  that  is  rich 
in  second  meaning.  It  evokes  a  lingering  mood  of 
serious  contemplation  that  lasts  far  beyond  the  actual 
passing  of  the  story.  Through  the  remaining  con- 
templative mood,  the  reflective  after-thought,  it  often 
becomes  an  incentive  to  action.  Thus  it  has  an  indi- 
rect ultimate  aim  of  betterment,  and  in  the  hands 
of  genius  may  become  a  social  force  as  potentially 
corrective  as  the  church  or  the  school. 

The  drama  of  thought  has  been  miscalled  the 
ethical  drama.  It  is  ultimately  ethical,  but  the  name 
suggests  an  immediate  pointing  out  of  a  specific 
moral  that  is  quite  outside  the  province  of  art.  Dra- 
matic art  never  states  directly  to  the  intellect,  never 
teaches  didactically,  never  attempts  to  speak  with 


264  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

a  show  of  authority.  But  as  the  emotions  and  the 
moral  consciousness  are  close  together,  there  is  the 
indirect  moral  impulse  that  arises  from  feeling  deeply 
and  understanding  subjectively  some  moral  malad- 
justment of  life — all  drama  being  concerned  more 
or  less  with  such  maladjustments.  The  deep  emo- 
tional experience  merely  clears  the  way  to  moral 
understanding:  it  purges  away  the  prejudices  and 
selfishnesses  ttiat  ordinarily  imprison  the  thinking, 
actively  moral  part  of  man. 

If  the  aesthetic  drama  easily  slips  into  a  form  that 
merely  tickles  the  senses,  and  if  the  drama  of  emo- 
tion easily  descends  to  tricking  the  emotions  into 
a  false  and  empty  response,  the  drama  of  thought 
spreads  before  the  playwright  a  network  of  dangers 
even  more  difficult  to  avoid.  Because  the  drama  of 
thought  tends  to  become  an  intensive  study  of  con- 
temporary life,  because  it  usually  is  very  close  to 
the  people's  problems,  there  is  the  constant  tempta- 
tion to  show  forth  actual  segments  of  hfe  that  are 
emotionally  compelling  In  a  mean  way,  but  that  are 
not  transformed  to  art  by  the  artist's  informing 
light.  Again  there  is  the  danger,  already  shadowed 
forth,  of  slipping  over  into  dialectic.  Because  the 
drama  of  thought  is  so  clearly  a  social  force,  it  is 
easy  to  distort  it  to  mere  propaganda,  completely 
losing  sight  of  the  sensuous  and  emotional  elements, 
leaving  only  something  dry  and  didactic  and  life- 
less, like  a  sermon  or  a  school  lesson.    Again,  be- 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  265 

cause  the  drama  of  thought  tends  to  become  Inti- 
mately introspective,  turning  the  full  light  into  the 
dark  corners  of  both  individual  and  social  life,  that 
heretofore  have  been  peeped  into  only  timidly  or 
secretly,  there  is  the  danger  of  choosing  the  material 
just  because  It  Is  dark,  of  baring  brutally  wounds 
that  should  be  shown  forth  only  with  the  reticent 
touch  of  art;  and  finally  of  excusing  sensational  exhi- 
bitions of  corrupt  or  corrupting  phases  of  life  by  an 
Immoral  sort  of  tag-end  morality. 

That  the  dramatists  of  thought  and  their  incom- 
petent imitators  slip  into  these  errors  is  not,  how- 
ever, argument  against  the  validity  of  the  form. 
At  Its  best  the  drama  of  thought  is  the  most  com- 
pletely satisfying,  the  most  human,  and  the  most 
social  of  the  arts  of  the  theatre.  If  one  of  its  mas- 
ters strikes  down  through  the  unbeautiful  aspects  of 
living  it  Is  only  to  reveal  to  us  more  clearly  the 
beauty  of  the  universal  foundations  of  life — and 
one  should  judge  an  art  only  by  the  masters. 

The  '^rama  of  thought  is  typically  the  drama  of 
to-day.  At  no  previous  time  have  the  intellectual 
message  and  the  social  significance  of  art  been  so 
emphasized  as  in  the  works  of  contemporary  play- 
wrights. The  Greek  tragedians  developed  a  form 
of  drama  in  which  the  theme  was  perfectly  clothed 
in  emotional  story,  and  they  achieved  a  compactness 
of  form,  an  economy  of  means,  that  was  not  ap- 
proached again  before  Ibsen.     But  it  remained  for 


266  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  dramatists  of  the  past  two  decades  to  resolve  the 
type  to  Its  quintessential  form.  Ibsen,  the  dramatist 
of  profound  thought;  Bjornson;  Hauptmann  In  his 
earlier  plays;  Galsworthy;  Brieux  at  his  most  dra- 
matic; and  Shaw,  who  is  the  master  of  the  comedy 
of  thought,  when  the  dramatist  Is  not  lost  In  the 
propagandist:  these  are  the  typical  figures  In  the  field 
of  the  drama  of  thought.  A  brief  mental  review  of 
the  significant  work  of  these  men  should  sufficiently 
verify  for  the  reader  the  theoretical  description  of 
the  group,  without  further  discussion.  Especially  It 
should  be  clear  what  is  meant  by  the  "second  mean- 
ing" which  Is  over  and  above  that  appearing  upon 
the  face  of  the  action. 

Before  turning  from  the  drama  of  thought  It  Is 
well  to  define  a  term  which  has  gained  considerable 
currency  as  Identifying  those  forms  of  dramatic  ac- 
tivity which  lie  opposite  to  the  aesthetic  drama.  The 
psychologic  drama  Is  a  name  that  Includes  both  the 
drama  of  emotion  and  the  drama  of  thought  in 
contradistinction  to  the  aesthetic  drama.  It  Is  a 
term  which  identifies,  rather  clumsily,  the  activities 
of  the  theatre  that  are  more  typically  dramatic  as 
distinguished  from  those  that  are  more  typically 
theatric  or  more  purely  aesthetic.  It  doubtless  had 
its  origin  In  the  conception  of  the  modern  dramatic 
movement  as  a  thing  chiefly  concerned  with  charac- 
ter-development, prying  deeper  Into  life,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  drama  of  mere  surface  appeal.    But 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  267 

even  though  it  implies  an  unwarranted  limitation, 
it  must  be  used  as  the  most  satisfactory  name  for 
the  drama  of  emotion  and  the  drama  of  thought  as 
one  generic  group. 


IX 


In  summary  this  may  be  said:  the  new  theory  of 
the  theatre  widens  the  field  to  include  all  those 
activities  that  are  characterized  by  the  serious  quali- 
ties of  art,  that  are  either  typically  theatric  or  typ- 
ically dramatic:  that  is,  distinguished  on  the  one 
hand  by  action  In  the  sense  of  decorative  movement, 
or  on  the  other  by  action  In  the  sense  of  develop- 
ment. 

From  this  new  dual  conception  of  action  may  be 
deduced  a  new  alignment  of  dramatic  forms :  first, 
the  aesthetic  drama,  which  Includes  the  more  typ- 
ically theatric  or  visual  forms;  those  that  have  a 
primarily  sensuous  appeal;  and  second,  the  psycho- 
logic drama,  which  Includes  the  more  typically  dra- 
matic forms,  that  appeal  by  story-development  to 
the  inner  faculties;  the  psychologic  drama  being  fur- 
ther divisible  Into  the  drama  of  emotion  and  the 
drama  of  thought,  according  to  the  dramatist's  em- 
phasis upon  story-growth  for  its  own  sake  or  upon 
the  development  of  underlying  Idea.  Not  only  does 
the  triple  alignment  thus  made,  of  aesthetic  drama, 
the  drama  of  emotion,  and  the  drama  of  thought, 


268  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

agree  with  the  new  conception  of  the  dual  nature 
of  action,  but  it  falls  in  perfectly  with  the  concep- 
tion of  art  as  appealing  in  three  ways,  to  the  senses, 
to  the  emotions,  and  to  the  intellect.  Moreover,  the 
theory  and  alignment  here  suggested  are  broad 
enough  to  include  the  forms  of  theatre  art  that 
very  recently  have  been  created,  and  that  indubitably 
are  entitled  to  a  place  in  any  complete  system  of 
dramatic  aesthetics,  though  denied  that  place  by  the 
old  and  generally-accepted  systems. 

There  must  come  soon  the  general  acceptance  of 
a  theory  of  the  theatre  which  differs  radically  from 
those  of  yesterday.  If  the  present  essay  to  formu- 
late the  new  basis  does  not  escape  entirely  the  faults 
that  were  so  noticeable  in  the  outworn  systems,  at 
least  it  should  point  the  way  to  an  ultimate  clear- 
ing of  the  field.  But  after  all  it  is  written  not  for 
the  aestheticians  but  for  the  drama-lover;  and  if  he 
finds  in  it  some  guide-posts  that  will  make  easier  his 
pleasant  rambles  in  theatre-land,  the  philosophers 
may  take  care  of  themselves. 

^i  *  :¥  *  * 

There  must  be  appended  to  this  chapter  of  theory 
brief  explanations  of  certain  terms  whose  meanings 
have  become  confused  through  continual  misuse. 
Certain  qualifying  definitions  are  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  the  complete  understanding  of  the  writer's 
intention. 

Idealism  is  a  word  dangerous  to  use,  as  often  is 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE    269 

done,  in  contrast  with  realism  or  with  any  other 
term  in  aesthetics;  because  to  deny  the  idealistic 
quality  to  a  painting,  or  a  statue,  or  a  drama,  is  to 
deny  to  it  that  for  which  art  exists.  For  all  art 
is  in  its  very  nature  idealistic.  If  the  artist  does 
not  add  to  his  material  that  something  which  makes 
it  an  improvement  upon  nature,  he  no  longer  is  the 
creator,  but  merely  a  copyist,  a  slavish  photographer. 
The  dramatist  may  indeed  choose  his  material  from 
strata  of  life  that  we  recognize  as  outwardly  un- 
idealistic,  but  if  it  does  not  undergo  a  certain  sort 
of  idealization  in  the  process  of  artistic  transfor- 
mation, it  remains  mere  life  or  nature  and  never 
becomes  true  art. 

Realism  is  the  most  abused  word  in  the  termi- 
nology of  art.  It  is  employed  continually  as  a  syno- 
nym of  naturalism,  and  as  an  antonym  of  idealism 
and  symbolism — as  if  the  art  world  could  be  halved, 
the  one  part  being  clearly  realistic,  the  other  ideal- 
istic or  symbolistic. 

But  the  realist  as  much  as  the  idealist  strikes 
down  to  what  is  deeply  characteristic,  stripping  na- 
ture of  irrelevancies.  Both  show  forth  not  the  out- 
ward semblances  of  nature  but  the  essences  of  life. 
Both  are  artist-interpreters.  The  realist  may  indeed 
be  distinguished  from  the  idealist  in  the  sense  that 
the  one  remains  closer  to  man's  actual  experience, 
closer  to  what  really  happens  to  all  of  us,  while  the 
other  strays  into  higher  flights  of  imaginative  experi- 


270  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

ence.  One  tends  to  the  particular,  the  other  to  the 
general.  But  one  of  the  fine  things  about  the  new 
dramatists  is  that  they  have  proved  that  the  artist 
may  seek  more  precise  knowledge  of  the  facts  of 
life  and  still  employ  an  ennobling  idealism  in  inter- 
preting that  knowledge.  They  have  shown  that 
there  is  idealism  underlying  the  everyday  world  if 
only  the  artist's  vision  is  wide  enough  and  pene- 
trating enough  to  find  it;  and  that  the  hand  of 
genius  can  uncover  beauty  in  the  common  clay  of 
life  as  well  as  in  the  stuff  kings  are  made  of.  The 
extreme  idealist  may  be  said  to  make  more  beautiful 
what  already  is  beautiful,  whereas  the  extreme  real- 
ist brings  beauty  out  of  the  commonplaceness  or  even 
ugliness  of  everyday  life. 

The  only  absolute  distinction  should  be  between 
realism,  or  idealism,  and  naturalism. 

For  Naturalism  is  merely  the  servile  imitation  of 
nature,  and  has  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  art.  Al- 
though realism  and  idealism  may  go  hand  in  hand, 
both  are  separated  from  naturalism  by  an  unbridge- 
able gulf.  For  while  the  artist,  whether  more  realist 
or  more  idealist,  has  to  do  with  the  essence  of  life, 
the  "naturalist"  makes  no  distinction  between  what 
is  deeply  characteristic  and  what  is  merely  acci- 
dental. The  realist  and  idealist  reveal  hidden  beau- 
ties, but  the  follower  of  naturalism  merely  imitates 
nature  photographically. 

The  commonest  phase  of  naturalism  in  the  theatre 


A  NEW  THEORY  OF  THE  THEATRE  271 

exists  In  the  stage-craft  of  David  Belasco  and  Sir 
Herbert  Tree  and  their  followers.  For  here  the  first 
aim  is  a  perfect  imitation,  that  will  appeal  to  the 
audiences  not  artistically  but  by  its  naturalness,  by 
its  absolute  fidelity  to  nature,  down  to  the  last  unim- 
portant detail.  The  practlcers  of  this  sort  of  stage 
setting  miscall  it  realism,  but  it  clearly  has  nothing 
to  do  with  art. 

All  art  exists  in  symbols :  for  as  soon  as  the  artist 
gets  away  from  "natural  life"  and  expresses  himself 
by  means  of  the  essential  or  characteristic  parts 
thereof,  he  Is  making  something  stand  for  something 
more  than  Itself — and  that  Is  symbolism.  The  sym- 
bolist, the  man  who  instinctively  shrinks  from  call- 
ing a  spade  a  spade,  is  the  very  opposite  of  the 
naturalist;  but  the  realist  and  the  idealist,  as  artists, 
necessarily  employ  symbolism. 

Poetry,  which  certain  theorists  have  counted,  with 
action,  one  of  the  two  essential  ingredients  of  drama, 
is  merely  that  intangible  something  which  the  artist 
puts  Into  his  work,  the  revealed  beauty,  the  magic 
by  which  he  transfuses  life  into  art.  The  old  defi- 
nition limited  poetry  to  literature  written  in  verse; 
but  recently  it  has  been  recognized  that  the  essence 
of  poetry  may  be  found  in  prose  and  even  in  the 
wordless  arts.  The  poetry  In  a  play  can  be  measured 
only  by  the  breadth  and  delicacy  of  the  dramatist's 
vision.  That  It  happens  to  be  written  in  verse  means 
simply  that  the  artist  has  chosen  to  add  the  outward 


272  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

beauty  of  metrically-flowmg  language;  and  while 
there  is  indeed  a  certain  fitness  in  the  addition  of  this 
appeal  in  some  forms  of  drama,  the  prose  play  or 
pantomime  may  have  quite  as  deep  poetic  or  spiritual 
qualities. 


XI 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE  TO  THE 

THEATRE 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE  TO  THE 

THEATRE 

There  are  two  great  revolutionary  figures  in  the 
history  of  the  modern  theatre:  Henrik  Ibsen  and 
Gordon  Craig.  Both  revolted  against  the  stagna- 
tion into  which  the  drama  had  lapsed  in  the  second 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century;  but  while  the  one 
took  up  the  old  dramatic  form,  rid  it  of  its  arti- 
ficialities, and  breathed  a  new  life  and  a  new  spirit 
into  it,  the  other  cast  loose  from  all  accepted  tradi- 
tions and  conventions  of  the  playhouse,  and  sailing 
uncharted  seas,  arrived  finally  at  a  form  of  drama 
absolutely  independent  of  the  time-honored  theory 
and  practice  of  the  theatre.  Ibsen  is  the  great 
reformer,  Craig  the  great  secessionist. 

Craig's  departure  from  the  accepted  theatre  was 
based  upon  an  entirely  new  conception  of  the  nature 
of  the  art  of  the  playhouse.  He  accepted  the  stand- 
ard definitions  that  stressed  action  as  the  essence  of 
the  art  of  the  theatre  and  of  drama.  But  he  inter- 
preted action  as  meaning  movement.  And  it  is 
movement  that  is  the  fundamental  material  of  all 

275 


276  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  new  aesthetic  forms  of  drama.  The  old  con- 
ception of  action  had  been  of  something  accom- 
phshed  on  the  stage,  as  story-development,  without 
regard  to  the  decorative  value  of  the  moving  figures. 
Thus  a  new  meaning  had  been  read  into  the  phrase 
"dramatic  action,"  so  that  it  came  to  be  considered 
merely  an  inner  growth,  a  cumulative  building  of 
ideas,  a  tense  series  of  character-episodes;  and  Ibsen 
especially  had  carried  his  art  into  a  region  where 
the  dramatic  interest  was  entirely  in  changes  of  feel- 
ing and  thought,  where  physical  movement  had  no 
part.  Craig,  arguing  from  the  fact  that  the  theatre 
was  primarily  a  place  for  seeing,  concluded  that  con- 
temporary drama  was  travelling  directly  away  from 
the  true  art  of  the  theatre.  He  conceived  of  a  new 
art  that  would  be  typically  theatric — that  is,  visually 
effective- — with  its  primary  appeal  that  of  decorative 
movement.  As  he  reviewed  the  points  at  which 
men  had  approached  such  an  art,  in  certain  forms 
of  dancing,  in  pageantry,  and  in  pantomime,  he  saw 
strange  gleams  of  a  new  and  radiant  beauty  that 
might  be  brought  into  the  theatre. 

With  these  visions  before  him,  he  looked  about 
for  the  artists  who  might  work  with  him  in  em- 
bodying the  new  ideal.  In  his  futile  search  for  those 
who  might  help  through  their  comprehensive  knowl- 
edge of  the  theatre,  he  discovered  the  second  great 
lack  in  contemporary  drama :  there  were  no  true 
artists  of  the  theatre. 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        277 

Not  only  were  there  no  men  who  understood  all 
the  departments  of  theatre  production,  playwrlting, 
stage  setting,  lighting,  costuming,  and  acting,  but  the 
production  never  was  conceived  as  a  whole,  being 
created  a  bit  here  and  a  bit  there  by  this  and  that 
man  of  the  producing  staff.  No  matter  how  perfect 
and  how  potentially  dramatic  the  play  might  be 
when  it  left  the  playwright's  hands,  the  final  pro- 
duction always  was  a  thing  of  scattered  effect,  in 
which  distracting  detail  and  accidental  effect  de- 
stroyed all  spiritual  truth  and  directness  and  sus- 
tained mood.  For  between  the  writing  and  the  first 
performance  a  dozen  artists  and  workmen  had  had 
hands  in  the  making:  the  actor,  the  scene-painter, 
the  costumer,  the  electrician,  the  carpenter,  the  man- 
ager— ^^each  had  done  his  work  without  regard  to  the 
others  or  to  the  unity  of  the  whole.  Thus,  while 
the  contemporary  playwright  cared  only  for  literary 
beauty  or  commercial  success,  the  scene  painter  cared 
only  to  make  his  work  attractive  In  itself,  with  an 
independent  sort  of  effectiveness,  forgetting  that  it 
should  be  nothing  more  than  a  background  for  the 
action;  and  the  actor  cared  less  for  the  beauty  and 
dramatic  quality  of  the  play  than  that  It  should  be 
a  good  vehicle  for  the  exhibition  of  his  own  indi- 
vidual acting;  and  finally,  the  manager,  who  really 
should  be  able  Intelligently  to  direct  the  whole  pro-  \ 
duction,  was  only  a  business  man  who  of  necessity 
delegated  his  duties  to  a  dozen  Incompetent  assist- 


278  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

ants.  So  the  production  lacked  the  essential  unity 
and  sense  of  design  that  are  at  the  base  of  all  art. 
Moreover  all  efforts  to  reform  the  theatre  had 
failed,  because  invariably  they  were  directed  toward 
only  one  part  of  the  complex  art  of  production.  The 
real  trouble  lay  in  the  fact  that  there  were  no  true  di- 
rectors, no  understanding  artists  who  would  be  to  the 
art  of  the  theatre  what  the  painter  is  to  painting  and 
the  architect  to  architecture — the  man  at  once  of  pre- 
vision and  of  execution.  So  there_came_Gprdgn 
Craig^  plea  for  the  new  artist  of  the  theatre. 

The  artist  of  the  theatre  will  be  a  man  who  has 
had  experience  and  training  as  playwright,  as  actor, 
as  scene  designer,  as  electrician,  as  manager — indeed 
in  every  department  of  the  playhouse.  Understand- 
ing thus  every  detail  of  his  materials,  and  directing 
everything,  he  will  be  able  to  conceive,  plan  and  carry 
out  the  entire  production.  Only  when  the  production 
is  thus  entirely  conceived  and  directed  by  one  man, 
will  it  be  a  matter  of  vision — of  imagination  and 
unified  design,  as  every  true  work  of  art  must  be. 

The  two  ideas  so  far  brought  out  form  the  founda- 
tion on  which  the  whole  of  Craig's  service  to  the 
theatre  is  built,  and  it  is  worth  while  to  lay  special 
stress  upon  them  before  taking  up  his  actual  experi- 
ments. First  there  is  the  new  conception  of  the 
theatre  production  as  primarily  a  decorative  art,  \ 
as  dependent  first  upon  beautiful  movement,  as 
something  visually  effective  rather  than  emotionally  \ 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        279 

stirring  or  intellectually  interesting;  and  second 
there  is  the  idea  of  totality  of  conception,  the  in- 
sistence upon  the  planning  and  execution  of  the  pro- 
duction as  a  whole,  and  under  the  personal  direc- 
tion of  a  creative  and  all-understanding  artist.  The 
two  fundamental  ideas  underlie  the  entire  structure 
of  the  new  assthetic  theatre,  as  well  as  the  fast- 
spreading  wave  of  reform  in  staging  in  the  older 
psychologic  theatre. 

When  Gordon  Craig  began  to  seek  the  laws  that 
would  govern  the  new  decorative  drama,  that  he 
visualized  as  a  thing  of  unity  and  harmony  and 
sustained  mood,  creative  rather  than  imitative  or 
interpretative,  imaginative  and  symbolic  rather  than 
realistic  or  naturalistic,  he  already  was  fitted  by  -■ 
heredity  and  experience  to  speak  authoritatively  of 
matters  of  the  playhouse.  For  he  is  a  son  of  Ellen 
Terry,  the  greatest  English-speaking  actress  of  her 
time,  and  of  E.  W.  Godwin,  an  architect  who  de- 
signed the  costumes  and  stage  settings  for  many  of 
the  finest  productions  of  his  day.  Gordon  Craig 
himself  was  an  actor  for  many  years,  appearing  first 
when  a  boy  of  sixteen,  with  Henry  Irving.  So  his 
first  quarrel  with  the  art  of  the  stage  was  born  of 
experience  and  not  theory.  He  studied  pictorial 
art,  with  William  Nicholson  among  others,  and  de- 
veloped the  wonderful  sense  of  composition  and  the 
dramatic  simplicity  which  distinguish  his  very  indi- 
vidual designs  and  wood-cuts.     Thus  he  combined 


28o  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

from  his  training  the  knowledge  of  two  things  that 
had  been  strangely  divorced:  drama  and  art. 

Craig's  practical  work  in  the  theatre  has  con- 
sisted in  his  staging  of  a  long  series  of  plays,  from 
the  "Dido  andiEneas"  of  1900  to  the  recent  remark- 
able production  of  "Hamlet"  at  the  Moscow  Art 
Theatre;  and  in  his  experiments  with  the  forms  of 
silent  drama,  and  particularly  with  marionettes.  He 
has  worked  slowly,  as  a  student  rather  than  a  pro- 
fessional director.  Considering  the  number  of 
years  during  which  he  has  worked  his  productions 
have  been  few;  but  each  one  has  been  planned  and 
brought  forth  with  infinite  patience  and  care.  After 
each  one  there  have  been  more  experimenting,  more 
changing,  discarding  and  rearranging.  Even  now 
he  does  not  feel  that  he  has  accomplished  his  ideal. 
But  out  of  his  incomplete  achievement  It  Is  possi- 
ble to  trace  three  concrete  attainments,  of  definite 
and  far-reaching  value  to  the  theatres  of  the  world. 
In  the  first  place  there  Is  the  creation  of  the  new, 
and  for  many  of  us  strange,  art  of  the  super-marion- 
ette ;  second  the  development  of  the  mimo-drama  of 
living  actors,  to  which  Craig  gave  the  impulse  rather 
than  the  embodiment;  and  third  the  reform  of 
staging  of  the  literary  and  psychologic  dramas,  the 
movement  against  naturalism  in  stage  setting  in  the 
"regular"  theatre.  It  Is  worth  while  to  examine  his 
achievement  In  each  of  the  three  directions  of 
progress. 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        281 

Let  us  take,  to  begin  with,  his  pet  form,  his  re- 
created puppet-theatre — so  that  we  may  immediately 
face  his  plans  in  the  farthest  limits  of  their  radical- 
ism; let  us  face  squarely  those  ideas  whose  expres- 
sion has  drawn  forth  the  epithets  "Madness," 
"Revolutionary,"  and  "Eccentric,"  from  the  very 
people  who  should  by  association  be  most  concerned 
with  the  art  of  the  theatre.  It  is  worth  while — with- 
out the  hasty  and  unthinking  criticism  with  which 
most  students  and  commentators  have  approached 
the  subject — to  trace  out  in  detail  just  what  his  art 
will  be  when  planned  and  carried  out  in  the  ideal 
way. 

Gordon  Craig  truly  says  that  the  materials  of 
any  art  of  the  theatre  are  these:  story  or  plot,- 
movement;  scenery;  lighting;  costume;  the  spoken 
word  (if  the  artist  wishes)  ;  music  and  dancing  when 
woven  integrally  into  the  dramatic  design;  and  the 
actor  or  the  marionette. 

The  story  may  be  little  more  than  a  bare  skeleton 
on  which  to  build:  a  bare  plot  or  scenario.  It  must 
be  simple  and  poetic  rather  than  complex  and  real- 
istic. Its  effectiveness  should  come  from  Imagina- 
tive beauty  rather  than  from  any  compelling  truth 
to  life  or  deep  emotional  appeal.  It  should  be  lyric 
rather  than  epic  or  didactic;  never  should  it  attempt 
to  carry  an  intellectual  or  moral  message.  This 
story,  Craig  admits,  may  be  the  work  of  another 
artist  if  it  be  thoroughly  realized  by  the  producer; 


282  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

but  it  is  even  better  if  it  be  a  creation  of  the  director's 
own  imagination. 

The  scenery  or  setting  will  be  simple  and  unob- 
trusive. The  artist  of  the  theatre  will  not  neces- 
sarily paint  or  construct  it  himself,  but  he  will  design 
it;  and  design  it  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  be  not  a 
show  in  itself,  but  merely  a  background  for  the 
action,  heightening  the  effect  of  the  whole  rather 
than  distracting  attention  from  it  It  will  be  sym- 
bolic and  decorative  rather  than  historically 
accurate,  attempting  to  reproduce  "an  atmosphere, 
not  a  locality."  Perspective  will  be  entirely  elimi- 
nated from  scenic  backgrounds,  because  perspective 
on  the  stage  invariably  is  distorted  from  all  but  one 
viewpoint  in  the  auditorium;  and  furthermore,  per- 
spective lines  serve  to  draw  the  eye  out  of  the  "pic- 
ture." The  principles  of  pictorial  composition  as 
applied  to  flat  design  will  be  applied  to  the  setting, 
and  the  emotional  value  of  certain  lines  and  shapes 
will  be  realized  to  the  full;  as  the  majesty  and  pro- 
foundness of  the  long  vertical,  and  the  restfulness  of 
the  horizontal.  Instead  of  the  flapping  wings  and 
backcloths  of  the  usual  setting,  Craig  has  evolved 
from  his  experiments  a  flat  neutrally-tinted  screen, 
made  in  various  shapes  and  sizes,  which  is  easily 
moved  and  adjusted.  With  a  set  of  these  screens 
he  can  arrange  every  setting  called  for  in  an  imagi- 
native drama,  placing  them  in  various  relationships 
to  gain  the  effects  of  spaciousness,  severity,  vastness, 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        283 

intimacy — In  short,  any  atmosphere  demanded  by  the 
spirit  of  the  play. 

Gordon  Craig  knows,  better  than  anyone  else  per- 
haps, the  emotional  value  of  lights.  The  mood  of 
the  scene  will  Invariably  be  suggested  by  the  light- 
ing, both  In  coloring  and  in  the  placing  and  move- 
ment of  lights  and  shadows.  He  has  discovered, 
too,  that  Independent  of  any  drama  in  the  accepted 
sense,  a  whole  story  can  be  worked  out  by  the  Inter- 
play of  colored  lights  on  screens  of  various  shapes 
and  relationships.  All  his  experiments  in  lighting, 
unlike  those  of  others,  have  been  purely  for  the 
beauty  or  suggestiveness  of  the  resultant  lights,  and 
not  to  Imitate  nature.  He  can  reproduce  all  of  the 
beauty  of  moonlight,  its  essential  spirit;  but  he  never 
is  guilty  of  trying  to  show  a  rising  moon. 

In  the  matter  of  costumes,  too,  imaginative  beauty 
instead  of  naturalism  will  dictate  the  choice.  The 
costumes  will  be  simple  and  decorative,  and  like 
blocks  of  color  In  a  great  pattern — part  of  the  color 
scheme  and  part  of  the  decorative  scheme.  They 
will  be  true  enough  to  the  spirit  of  the  time  of  the 
play  not  to  be  conspicuously  unnatural,  but  not  so 
painfully  accurate  that  they  will  excite  comment 
on  their  historical  exactness. 

Gordon  Craig  relies  upon  movement  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  appeal  to  the  spectator.  First 
there  are  the  movements  of  the  individual  figures 
(whether  actors  or  marionettes),  that  tell  the  story, 


284  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

since  the  new  drama  is  wordless.  These  actions  and 
gestures  will  be  simple,  deliberate  and  infinitely  ex- 
pressive. There  will  be  no  accidental  tripping  on  a 
rug  or  falling  over  a  chair  to  add  a  semblance  of 
naturalness  to  the  scene.  And  since  the  story-inter- 
est is  really  secondary  to  the  visual  or  decorative 
elements,  the  individual  movement  will  be  less  im- 
portant than  the  group  movement.  Craig  has  shown 
for  the  first  time  the  aesthetic  value  of  the  mass- 
ing, grouping  and  interweaving  of  the  figures  on 
the  stage.  Through  harmony  and  rhythm  of  shift- 
ing figures  he  achieves  a  kaleidoscopic  pattern  of 
line  and  color.  The  movement  is  in  effect  a  con- 
tinuous decorative  pattern:  a  living  mural  decora- 
tion. It  is  always  and  consciously  under  the  control 
of  the  artist  of  the  theatre. 

The  next  point  is  that  at  which  Craig  departs 
from  most  of  those  who  have  followed  him  so  far: 
he  would  leave  the  spoken  word  out  of  his  ma- 
terials. Because  strong  feelings  can  better  be  sug- 
gested by  gestures  than  by  words,  and  because  the 
spoken  word  is  often  an  interruption  of  the  mood, 
his  ideal  art  is  a  drama  of  silence:  the  mimo-drama. 
For  the  moment  let  us  agree  that  in  certain  types 
of  plays  his  claim  is  true,  at  least  until  we  examine 
the  final  result;  and  let  us  accept  for  the  moment 
his  other  most  revolutionary  doctrine;  that  the 
"iiber-marionette,"  or  super-marionette,  must  ulti- 
mately take  the  place  of  the  actor.     Because  the 


GORDON  Cl^AIG'S  SERVICE        285 

living  actor  cannot  subordinate  his  personality  and 
temperament  to  the  will  of  the  artist;  because  his 
expression  and  his  movement  are  always  subject  to 
his  own  emotions;  and  because  the  artist,  on  the 
other  hand,  must  use  only  materials  that  respond 
absolutely  to  his  will:  therefore  the  marionette  must 
take  the  place  of  the  actor.  Only  thus  can  the  artist 
of  the  theatre  keep  absolute  control  of  the  entire 
production. 

Here,  then,  is  a  new  art,  different  from  any  the 
world  has  known:  an  art  of  silent  wooden  fig- 
ures, moving  decoratively  among  beautiful  colored 
lights  and  harmonious  backgrounds,  acting  out  a 
primitive,  imaginative  story.  Its  appeal  is  not  at 
all  the  emotional  or  intellectual  one  of  the  usual 
theatre  production,  but  is  entirely  sensuous.  It  is 
an  appeal  similar  to  that  of  music,  which  fails  most 
completely  when  it  tries  to  carry  a  didactic  or  in- 
tellectual message.  The  new  art  is  aesthetic,  imagi- 
native, and  suggestive,  a  thing  of  movement,  color 
and  rhythm,  and  of  sustained  mood,  bringing  to  the 
spectator  that  deep  soul-satisfaction  described  as 
"poetic  wonder." 

Who  shall  judge  of  the  new  art?  Certainly  the 
most  of  us,  remembering  the  occasional  moments  of 
profound  satisfaction  experienced  in  the  theatre  of 
living  action — imperfect  though  it  may  be — will  not 
admit  that  Gordon  Craig's  creation  is  the  only  true 
art  of  the  theatre.    But  who  shall  say  that  he  is  not 


286  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

developing  an  art  that  will  play  upon  the  heart- 
strings of  future  millions  of  theatre-goers  even  more 
sweetly  than  the  current  drama  plays  on  ours  ?  And 
who  of  us,  soaked  as  we  are  in  the  traditions  of  a 
commercial  or  literary  theatre,  can  judge  fairly  of 
this  art  that  is  so  new,  so  foreign  to  all  our  stand- 
ards? Certainly  it  is  an  art  wonderfully  suggestive 
and  beautiful.  In  the  purity  of  its  sensuous  and 
imaginative  appeal  it  is  capable  of  evoking  in  the 
spectator  something  of  that  rapturous  enjoyment 
that  usually  is  a  response  to  music  alone.  Indeed 
it  is  a  thing  that  we  should  look  forward  to  expect- 
antly and  with  every  encouragement.  And  because  it 
is  truer  to  its  own  materials,  and  less  dependent  on 
literature,  or  painting,  or  music,  it  promises  when 
completely  developed  to  be  the  truest  art  of  the 
theatre.  Its  effectiveness  is  in  a  way  only  provis- 
ional, since  its  audience  has  been  a  very  limited 
©ne — but  all  those  who  have  witnessed  it  in  its  finest 
accomplishment  agree  that  it  will  be  one  of  the  most 
satisfying  of  the  forms  of  drama. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  pause  long  over  the  second 
development  that  has  grown  out  of  Craig's  experi- 
ments. For  the  mimo-drama,  the  wordless  play  of 
living  action,  is  simply  Craig's  marionette  drama 
with  the  human  actor  substituted  for  the  wooden 
^figure.  The  other  elements  are  the  same:  the  sim- 
ple imaginative  story,  the  decorative  movement  that 
is  more  important  than  the  subject-interest,  the  sug- 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        287 

gestive  setting  that  unobtrusively  heightens  the  mood, 
the  decorative  lighting.  Max  Reinhardt  and  those 
others  who  have  brought  the  mimo-drama  to  its 
highest  achievement  followed  Craig  up  to  the  point 
where  he  chose  the  wooden  instead  of  the  human 
actor.  Sacrificing  a  certain  abstract  beauty — -what 
Craig  terms  a  "noble  artificiality" — for  a  greater 
elasticity  of  movement  and  a  wider  range  of  expres- 
siveness, they  carried  out  Craig's  ideal  on  a  slightly 
divergent  tangent.  The  effectiveness  of  the  mimo- 
drama  need  not  be  argued  here,  since  the  discerning 
critics  of  two  continents  hailed  "Sumurun,"  an  ex- 
ample characteristically  sensuous  and  decorative  but 
rather  too  sensational,  as  affording  a  new  and  a  joy- 
ous artistic  experience. 

How  the  Craig  principles  crept  into  the  Conti- 
nental Theatres  and  paved  the  way  for  the  perfecting 
of  the  several  forms  of  aesthetic  drama,  is  clear  when 
one  considers  that  before  1905,  when  "The  Art  of 
the  Theatre"  first  appeared  (and  was  translated  into 
German),  Craig  already  had  produced  a  number  of 
plays  in  England  and  had  at  least  made  the  designs 
for  Berlin  productions.  Moreover  his  sketches  and 
models  had  been  exhibited  in  half  a  dozen  European 
cities,  and  had  stirred  up  a  great  deal  of  comment 
and  discussion.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  Germans 
that  they  almost  always  give  him  credit  as  the  orig- 
inator and  pioneer  artist  of  the  movement.    Indeed 


288  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

it  seems  that  in  a  very  true  sense  Craig  is  not  with- 
out honor  save  In  his  own  country. 

If  Craig's  service  ended  with  his  creation  of  the 
new  aesthetic  arts  of  the  theatre,  the  world  still  would 
owe  him  a  debt  of  gratitude.  But  of  almost  equal 
value  is  the  Influence  he  has  exerted  upon  the  ac- 
cepted theatre,  upon  those  arts  that  may  be  termed 
the  psychologic  drama  In  contradistinction  to  the 
aesthetic  drama.  In  creating  his  new  art  he  chose  to 
Ignore  all  that  the  theatre  had  accomplished  in  sev- 
eral centuries,  turning  his  back  completely  upon  the 
old  forms.  He  felt  that  the  "successful"  play- 
wrights, managers,  actors,  and  scene  painters  had 
become  so  soaked  in  the  traditions  of  a  bastard  form 
of  dramatic  activity,  that  they  could  bring  nothing 
of  value  to  his  new  structure.  He  preferred  to 
create  out  of  the  raw  materials  an  art  entirely  new 
— sweet,  clean  and  beautiful — and  not  merely  to 
accomplish  a  regeneration  of  the  old  form.  His 
achievement  is  so  fine  that  the  world  may  easily 
forgive  him  for  a  certain  Intolerance  in  his  attitude 
toward  all  but  his  chosen  direction  of  work.  But 
— and  here  is  the  important  point  to  which  almost 
all  of  his  critics  have  been  blind — he  has  exerted  im- 
mense power  over  the  very  art  which  he  so  care- 
fully ignored:  the  reform  of  staging  that  has  re- 
sulted from  the  application  to  the  psychologic  drama 
of  his  principles  of  simplicity  and  suggestion  and 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        289 

decorative  beauty  in  setting  is  at  least  an  equal  half 
of  his  service  to  the  theatre. 

This  other  art  of  the  theatre  includes  all  those 
forms  of  drama  which  depend  primarily  upon  story- 
development  or  character-development  through  dia- 
logue. Its  most  typical  and  intensive  form  is  the 
art  of  Ibsen  and  of  Galsworthy,  and  it  ranges  from 
that  to  the  extensive  and  literary  drama  of  Shake- 
speare, from  the  more  typically  dramatic  "Othello" 
to  those  many  plays  that  are  really  literature  thrown 
into  dialogue  form.  It  is  clearly  a  legitimate  art 
of  the  theatre,  and  true  to  the  materials  of  the 
theatre.  Contrary  to  the  suggestion  in  Craig's  atti- 
tude, the  use  of  words  does  not  necessarily  put  it 
into  the  category  of  literature :  it  is  essentially  drama, 
based  on  living  action.  The  difference  is  merely 
one  of  emphasis  on  material:  in  the  aesthetic  drama 
the  visual  and  decorative  elements  are  emphasized; 
in  the  psychologic  character  growth  and  story-de- 
velopment are  stressed,  appealing  to  the  emotions, 
and  through  them  to  the  intellect,  rather  than  to 
the  senses.  In  the  hands  of  a  real  artist  of  the 
theatre  either  form  can  be  moulded  into  a  unified 
harmonious  whole. 

The  psychologic  drama  is  not  hopelessly  bound 
up  in  false  traditions.  The  art  is  very  defective  as 
yet,  is  very  often  given  to  cheap  realism,  false 
themes,  and  theatricality.  But  the  leaven  is  work- 
ing, and  by  a  peculiar  irony  the  leaven  chiefly  of 


290  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

Gordon  Craig's  own  ideas.  Let  us  see,  then,  what 
is  his  service  to  the  psychologic  theatre — what  are 
the  changes  in  each  department  of  production  that 
are  following  his  revolutionary  discoveries. 

His  greatest  service  lies  in  the  reaction  he  has 
started  against  naturalism  in  stage  setting.  The 
stage  "artists"  of  to-day  have  indeed  come  to  a 
wonderful  perfection  of  naturalism,  of  photographic 
detail  in  setting.  If  we  did  not  know  that  we  were 
in  a  theatre,  we  might  even  accept  some  of  their 
creations  as  the  real  thing,  the  material  illusion  is  so 
complete.  But  the  fact  is  that  we  always  do  know 
that  we  are  in  the  theatre;  and  so  it  happens  that 
the  scene  is  unnatural  just  to  the  extent  of  its  strain- 
ing after  naturalness.  For,  after  all,  art  is  a  con- 
vention, selective  rather  than  photographic,  dealing 
with  the  characteristic  rather  than  the  accidental. 
A  stage  setting  can  be  absolutely  right  only  when  it 
suggests  the  mood  of  the  play,  the  spirit  of  the  whole 
performance.  It  is  not  right  when  it  is  made  up  of 
a  dozen  tawdry  flapping  wings  and  backcloths  and 
sky-borders;  nor  is  it  right  when  it  is  a  photographic 
reproduction  of  a  hundred  accidental  material  de- 
tails, distracting  the  spectator's  mind  from  the 
essence  of  the  play.  Gordon  Craig  believes  that  it 
is  right  only  when  it  expresses  the  mood  and  unob- 
trusively heightens  the  effect,  by  symbolism  instead 
of  naturalism,  decoratively  and  harmoniously,  as  a 
background  and  not  as  a  show  in  itself — and  his 


\^U10C 


GORDON  CRAIG  S  SCREEN   SETTINGS 

Gordon  Craig  recently  produced  "Hamlet"  at  the 
Moscow  Art  Theatre,  using  a  single  set  of  folding  screens 
in  varying  combinations  for  all  the  necessary  settings.  In 
this  sort  of  staging  everything  possible  is  left  to  the  im- 
agination of  the  spectator;  there  is  no  detail  to  distract  the 
attention  from  the  action — merely  a  perfect  manipulation 
of  line  and  mass,  and  of  mysterious  lights  and  shadows,  to 
create  mood.  Illusion  is  created  by  suggestion — the  only 
method  legitimate  in  the  theatre. 


,/'" 


\ 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE         291 

teaching  is  quite  as  applicable  to  the  psychologic 
drama  as  to  his  own  created  art. 

Invariably  when  a  student  of  Gordon  Craig's 
work  has  become  half  convinced  of  the  soundness 
and  truth  of  his  theories  of  stage  setting,  and  of 
their  fitness  for  psychologic  as  well  as  aesthetic 
drama,  the  comment  comes :  "All  this  is  well  enough 
for  the  setting  of  imaginative  plays,  but  what  about 
those  that  call  for  scenes  in  modern  interiors?"  It 
is  the  most  searching  of  all  questions  that  must  be 
faced  by  those  who  believe  in  Craig's  fight  against 
naturalism  and  at  the  same  time  believe  in  the  psy- 
chologic drama.  It  is  worth  while  to  face  it  squarely. 
How  are  Craig's  theories  to  be  reconciled  to  the 
plays  of  Ibsen,  of  Pinero,  of  Galsworthy?  Craig 
does  not  care  to  reconcile  them.  He  is  concerned 
only  with  the  imaginative  drama,  with  his  back 
turned  squarely  upon  the  "realistic"  drama,  and  espe- 
cially upon  those  modern  plays  which  call  for  "up-to- 
date"  settings.  But  the  principles  he  has  evolved 
apply  to  that  sort  of  play  none  the  less,  and  there 
jis  in  his  work  a  salutary  lesson  for  the  setting  of 
jmodern  scenes. 

There  can  be  no  objection  to  a  setting  being  nat- 
ural, if  its  naturalness  is  not  one  of  haphazard  or 
strained  detail  and  out  of  key  with  the  spirit  of  the 
play.  But  the  natural  setting  should  be  expressive 
of  tasteful  everyday  life,  with  the  accidentals  left 
out — not  of  a  stage  director's  tastelessness.    In  the 


292  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

modern  room  on  the  stage  simplicity  should  be  the 
first  concern  of  the  designer.  The  wall  spaces  should 
be  kept  as  unbroken  as  possible,  for  just  as  in  the 
aesthetic  drama,  the  attention  should  be  concentrated 
on  the  actors;  they  should  stand  out  clearly  against 
a  background  divided  into  a  very  few  large  masses. 
The  room  should  be  cleared,  moreover,  of  two-thirds 
of  the  usual  clutter  of  furniture  and  naturalistic  prop- 
erties; the  average  stage  parlor  suggests  simple  do- 
mesticity less  than  the  crowded  aspect  of  a  second- 
hand furniture  store  or  old  curiosity  shop. 

With  a  few  chairs,  a  table,  and  a  picture,  a  de- 
signer with  perfect  taste  can  create  by  suggestion  an 
atmosphere  that  the  tasteless  average  stage  "artist" 
cannot  achieve  with  either  three  times  or  a  hundred 
times  the  same  number  of  objects.  By  the  shape  of 
the  rooms,  the  height  of  the  celling,  the  combination 
of  lines,  the  placing  of  the  openings,  and  by  the  dis- 
position of  the  furnishings,  and  by  the  lighting,  a 
modern  room  can  be  made  to  suggest  the  spiritual 
mood  of  any  scene:  cheeriness,  severity,  majesty, 
intimacy,  depression.  But  it  can  be  done  only  by 
simplicity,  economy  of  means,  reticence  of  touch, 
suggestion,  concentration.  These  average  over- 
crowded Interiors,  these  depressingly  accurate  reve- 
lations of  the  stage  director's  lack  of  taste,  make 
one  pray  Indeed  for  Craig's  ideal  artist  of  the  thea- 
tre. Restraint,  simplicity  and  appropriateness  can- 
not find  their  place  in  stage  decoration  until  there  is 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        293 

a  generation  of  directors  who  know  the  value  of 
these  things  in  real  life. 

Craig's  teaching  is  quite  as  applicable  to  the 
lighting  of  the  regular  production  as  to  the  scenery. 
Unlike  the  "Wizard  of  the  Switchboard,"  he  seeks 
only  that  the  light  shall  be  appropriate  to  the  mood, 
or  beautiful,  not  that  it  shall  be  natural  or  imitative. 
One  of  the  first  things  he  decided  in  his  experiments 
was  that  footlights,  casting  ugly  shadows,  must  be 
abolished.  It  is  difficult  to  see  why  they  have  per- 
sisted so  long,  since  they  are  not  only  unbeautiful  but 
unnatural. 

In  the  psychologic  drama  of  the  modern  sort  one 
cannot  follow  out  Craig's  theory  that  the  costumes 
should  be  imaginative  and  like  blocks  of  color  in 
a  pattern.  But  one  might  write  a  long  and  much- 
needed  plea  for  the  simple  and  becoming  costume 
for  modern  stage  scenes.  The  stage  has  so  far 
degenerated  to  a  parade-ground  for  the  ultra-fash- 
ionable in  dress,  that  Craig's  books  might  be  read 
with  profit  by  many  a  star  whose  vanity  has  got  the 
better  of  her  reticence  and  taste. 

In  the  production  of  the  psychologic  drama,  it  is 
clear  that  movement  and  grouping  of  the  figures  on 
the  stage  cannot  have  the  decorative  value  that  j 
Craig  would  derive  from  them  in  the  imaginative  f 
mimo-drama.  But  his  plea  for  a  consideration  of  | 
movement  as  a  factor  in  heightening  dramatic  effect  ' 
is  a  needed  protest  against  the  aimless,  restless  action 


294  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

of  so  many  present-day  actors.  Movement  which  is 
properly  designed  and  consciously  directed  is  the 
only  sort  that  is  of  value  in  a  play  that  is  based  on 
the  first  principles  of  art. 

As  Gordon  Craig's  new  art  of  the  theatre  is 
wordless,  developing  its  story  by  action  and  light, 
one  might  suppose  that  he  would  carry  no  message 
of  value  to  the  artist  of  the  psychologic  drama  in 
regard  to  the  story  or  plot.  Yet  he  has  performed 
a  service  in  showing  what  is  truly  dramatic  ma- 
terial. Fortunately  his  voice  has  been  only  one  of 
many  in  the  effort  to  teach  that  the  stage  should  not 
fulfill  the  function  of  the  lecture-platform  or  the 
pulpit.  If  direct  instruction  is  an  aim,  the  theatre 
is  better  left  alone.  That  does  not  connote  that 
there  is  to  be  no  idea  back  of  the  play.  There  must 
indeed  be  a  tangible  basis  for  the  story  or  plot,  an 
idea  or  theme.  But  it  must  be  so  woven  into  the 
action  that  it  will  at  no  place  express  itself  as  a 
direct  statement.  The  first  mission  of  art  is  not  to 
teach  the  brain,  but  to  stimulate  the  imagination,  to 
appeal  to  the  senses  and  emotions,  to  evoke  a  mood 
or  feeling  in  the  person  receiving  the  impression. 
It  is  true  that  every  deep  emotional  stimulus  carries 
a  corresponding  stimulus  to  the  intellect;  and  some 
of  us  may  feel  that  the  art  that  thus  adds  an  intel- 
lectual appeal  to  the  sensuous  and  emotional  ones  is 
more  vital  than  that  which  leaves  no  food  for  after- 
thought.   But  the  point  that  Craig's  attitude  makes 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE         295 

clearer  is  this :  that  the  production  is  not  art  when 
it  becomes  preachy  and  didactic — for  art  can  prop- 
erly carry  a  message  only  through  emotional  experi- 
ence. The  drama  may  stimulate  thought,  as  we  have 
learned  from  Ibsen  and  other  modern  dramatists, 
but  the  audience  never  should  be  conscious  that  the 
characters  are  preaching.  Craig  has  taught,  more- 
over, that  the  story  must  deal  with  the  characteristic 
beauty  of  life  rather  than  with  the  accidental  detail. 
If  Gordon  Craig  opposes  the  didactic  play  on  the 
one  hand,  he  is  quite  as  vehement  In  his  protest 
against  the  purely  literary  play  on  the  other.  If  the 
teacher  has  his  lecture  platform,  the  literary  man 
has  the  library,  and  either  one  is  out  of  place  in  the 
theatre.  What  often  Is  called  the  "poetic  drama," 
the  play  whose  appeal  Is  purely  one  of  fine  writing, 
generally  Is  quite  useless  as  stage  material.  The 
true  function  of  the  theatre  Is  something  more  than 
a  mere  interpretation  of  literature.  After  many  ex- 
periments with  Shakespeare's  tragedies — even  after 
his  own  triumphant  production  of  "Hamlet"  at  the 
Art  Theatre  in  Moscow,  which  the  most  skeptical 
called  a  success — Craig  has  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  these  immortal  works  cannot  be  adequately  pro- 
duced on  the  stage.  Every  lover  of  literature  can 
remember  the  whole-souled  satisfaction  of  his  first 
reading  of  Shakespeare's  tragedies,  and  the  pleasure 
of  conjuring  up  out  of  the  Imagination  the  magic 
backgrounds  for  the  various  scenes.    And  then  was 


296  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

there  not  a  distinct  sense  of  disappointment  when 
he  saw  them  acted  amid  artificial  scenery  on  the 
stage?  Craig  is  without  doubt  right  when  he  argues 
that  the  Shakespearean  tragedies  are  so  great  as 
literature  that  no  artificial  setting  in  the  theatre  ever 
can  be  adequate.  If  they  could  be  presented  in  the 
EHzabethan  manner  before  audiences  trained  to 
evoke  the  proper  settings  from  the  imagination,  the 
performance  might  be  worthy  of  the  text.  But 
Shakespeare's  plays  are  distinctly  unsuited  to  the 
conventions  of  the  modern  playhouse  and  not  only 
are  they  not  typically  theatric,  but  usually  they  are 
not  dramatic  in  the  sense  of  being  tensely  gripping, 
cumulatively  absorbing.  With  the  exception  of 
"Othello"  and  "Macbeth,"  in  which  the  dramatic 
element  does  predominate,  and  "Hamlet,"  that  Is  In 
plot-outline  a  very  compelling  melodrama,  Shake- 
speare's works  are  pre-eminently  literature  and  only 
secondarily  drama.  Craig  joins  all  other  critics  In 
hailing  Shakespeare  as  the  incomparable  literary 
artist,  but  truly  points  out  that  Shakespeare  in  the 
theatre  usually  is  the  poet  out  of  place.  The  pro- 
duction may  be  enjoyable  for  a  number  of  reasons: 
for  its  historic  Interest,  for  the  character-Interpreta- 
tion of  a  great  actor,  for  the  wonderful  Incidental 
bits  of  poetry,  for  the  occasional  humorous  scenes, 
for  the  remarkable  beauty  of  phraseology,  and  lastly 
as  bringing  back  to  the  spectator  reminiscence  of 
something   that   has   become    dear   in   association 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        297 

through  reading.  How  much  our  enjoyment  of 
Shakespearean  productions  depends  upon  this  latter 
reminiscent  Interest  is  clear  when  we  reflect  that  we 
always  feel  that  we  must  read  the  play  before  seeing 
it,  if  we  happen  not  to  know  it  well;  and  if  we  see 
a  production  without  a  preliminary  reading,  we  often 
are  confused  and  even  bored,  and  certainly  do  not 
get  the  pleasure  that  is  afforded  to  our  better-posted 
neighbors.  In  other  words,  the  appeal  is  not  typ- 
ically theatric,  that  is,  not  in  the  seeahle  elements, 
nor  typically  dramatic,  that  is,  in  action  swiftly  de- 
veloping to  a  crisis,  but  primarily  in  poetry  and 
story  grown  dear  to  us  by  association. 

Of  course,  the  substitution  of  the  marionette  for 
the  actor  would  be  impossible  In  the  psychologic 
drama.  For  not  only  Is  human  speech  necess:ary  to 
the  unfolding  of  subtle  relationships,  but  in  character 
development  the  actor  can  give  a  forceful,  living 
response  to  the  intent  of  the  playwright  or  artist 
that  Is  impossible  to  the  lifeless  marionette.  The 
best  actors  can  subordinate  themselves  absolutely  to 
the  will  of  the  director  In  spite  of  Craig's  claim  to 
the  contrary,  and  they  can  heighten  the  mood  of  the 
play,  can  Interpret  Its  spirit,  as  the  wooden  figure 
cannot.  Except  In  very  large  auditoriums,  facial  ex- 
pression, properly  directed,  is  a  distinct  asset  In  in- 
terpretation. As  a  matter  of  fact  Gordon  Craig  for- 
merly considered  the  flesh-and-blood  actor  perfectly 
good  dramatic  timber,  and  he  had  much  to  say  about 


298  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

the  "star"  system,  about  naturalism  in  expression, 
about  repression  in  acting,  and  about  the  use  of  the 
voice.  But  these  things  have  been  said  by  others 
quite  as  clearly,  and  they  need  not  be  gone  over 
here. 

Gordon  Craig's  general  influence  on  the  psycho- 
logic drama  has  been — and  will  continue  to  be  in- 
creasingly so — toward  unity  and  beauty,  and  away 
from  naturalism.  He  is  the  prophet  of  a  new  sim- 
plicity in  stage-craft.  In  setting,  in  light,  in  move- 
ment, in  story,  he  teaches  that  each  needless  thing, 
each  unnecessary  realistic  detail  (no  matter  how 
appealing  in  itself),  is  an  interruption  of  the  main 
action,  of  the  sustained  mood.  The  method  that 
he  indicates  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  ideal  art, 
is  also  the  only  practical  remedy  for  the  ills  of  the 
psychologic  drama — the  training  of  artists  of  the 
theatre. 

One  who  studies  the  subject  sympathetically  and 
without  prejudice  must  believe  that  only  those  who 
are  interested  superficially  and  commercially  in  the 
theatre — and  not  in  the  theatre  as  an  art — can  fail 
to  take  Gordon  Craig  seriously;  and  of  those  who 
really  try  to  understand  his  viewpoint  and  then  turn 
to  scoff,  one  can  only  feel  that  they  are  so  per- 
meated with  the  traditions  of  a  false  art  of  the 
theatre  that  they  are  blind  to  any  innovation,  no 
matter  how  noble,  which  does  not  square  with  their 
own  prejudices. 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        299 

There  doubtless  is  cause  for  the  misunderstanding 
which  surrounds  the  core  of  Craig's  work.  His 
essays,  through  which  his  theories  are  chiefly  known, 
are  stimulating,  illuminating  and  prophetic,  opening 
up  to  the  reader  unlmaglned  realms  of  thought  and 
beauty.  But  his  style  is  Intensely  personal,  even 
cryptogrammlc.  His  expression  often  Is  confusing, 
and  his  argument  never  is  summed  up  as  a  whole. 
He  states  the  Ideal,  though  he  often  follows  the  most 
practical.  And  after  all  he  is  only  a  student — an 
experimentalist,  with  his  investigations  incomplete. 
Moreover,  he  continually  Is  outgrowing  his  own 
older  theories,  and  his  revolutionary  Ideas  of  a  year 
ago  may  not  at  all  accord  with  his  ideas  of  to-day. 
But  one  who  Is  not  hopelessly  steeped  In  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  existing  theatre  may  dig  down  through 
the  mass  of  confusion  and  misunderstanding,  and 
find  the  foundations  of  a  new  art  as  beautiful  as 
any  the  theatre  has  known;  may  find,  too,  the  first 
impulses  to  the  most  wholesome  forces  that  are 
to-day  at  work  in  the  older  theatre.  Imperfect  as 
Craig's  work  is,  still  in  that  imperfection  Is  bound 
up  the  movement  most  vital  to  the  drama  of  to-day 
and  of  to-morrow. 

Before  concluding  it  is  worth  while  to  pause  to 
clear  up  certain  misconceptions  that  Craig's  own 
over-statements  have  served  to  foster.  Wide  pub- 
licity has  been  given  to  his  statement  that  actors 
should  appear  with  masks.     Many  a  commentator 


300  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

has  held  him  up  to  public  gaze  in  ridicule  as  the 
man  who  would  revert  to  the  old  custom  of  covering 
the  actors'  faces  with  grotesquely  modelled  masks. 
But  one  has  the  key  to  Gordon  Craig's  thought  when 
one  reads  his  statement  that  Henry  Irving's  face 
was  the  most  perfect  mask  he  ever  had  seen.  .  To 
make  the  face  a  mask,  to  blot  out  of  it  all  trace  of 
personal  feeling  or  emotion,  but  to  paint  there  every 
shade  of  expression  demanded  by  the  character  im- 
personated— that  is  the  work  of  the  perfect  actor. 
The  mask  Gordon  Craig  had  in  mind  must  be  an 
artificial  one  for  the  temperamental  actor;  but  for 
the  actor  whose  every  movement  is  part  of  a  pre- 
conceived design — and  "art  arrives  only  by  design" 
he  truly  says — the  human  face  is  the  mask;  behind 
it  is  hidden  the  actor's  own  personality;  upon  it  are 
expressed  only  the  feelings  and  emotions  of  "the 
part."  The  plea  is  hardly  more  than  a  protest 
against  the  actor  who  is  continually  parading  his 
own  idiosyncrasies  and  his  own  shapely  legs:  a  plea 
for  surrender  of  individual  personality  in  favor  of 
deliberate  action  and  designed  movement  that  can 
be  directed  by  the  artist  of  the  theatre.  Similarly 
one  must  soften  the  meaning  of  that  statement  of 
Eleanora  Duse  which  Craig  has  quoted  with  such 
gusto ;  fll^o  save  the  theatre,  the  theatre  must  be 
destroyea;  the  actors  and  actresses  must  all  die  of 
the  plague.  They  make  art  impossible,"  It  is  very 
clear  that  Craig  did  not  intend  an  utter  and  ever- 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        301 

lasting  annihilation  of  the  theatre;  but  in  a  very 
true  sense  the  old  artificial  theatre  is  being  destroyed 
■ — and  he  more  than  any  other  is  helping  to  build  a 
new.  As  for  the  actors  all  dying  of  the  plague,  he 
really  is  too  soft-hearted  to  wish  it  either  literally 
or  metaphorically;  for  although  his  ideal  new  art 
as  sketched  in  his  writings  is  to  be  a  drama  of 
wooden  figures,  it  is  noticeable  that  in  his  actual  pro- 
ductions the  living  body  has  a  very  important  place. 
And  he  now  says  that  he  will 'be  content  in  his  experi- 
ments only  when  he  can  test  all  materials  and  all 
forms.  Again  it  is  the  actor  In  his  average  modern 
embodiment,  and  not  the  genus  actor  that  he  has  in 
mind.  The  third  misconception  about  Craig  is  that 
he  talks  much  about  the  art  of  the  theatre  but  accom- 
plishes little.  Because  he  has  preferred  to  go  very 
slowly,  testing  and  discarding  and  building  anew 
(the  "Hamlet"  production  in  Moscow  was  three 
years  In  the  making),  he  has  been  termed  a  mere 
dreamer.  He  Is  Indeed  the  original  thinker  rather 
than  the  practitioner,  primarily  the  prophet  rather 
than  the  doer.  In  that  he  is  like  Tolstoy,  who  more 
than  any  other  man  started  the  wave  of  moral 
progress  that  is  sweeping  over  the  world,  but  who 
never  accomplished  a  bit  of  practical  reform  work 
because  he  was  so  impatient  of  all  organ^jR  effort 
and  restraint.  Nevertheless  Craig  has  done  some 
practical  work,  as  the  long  list  of  his  actual  produc- 
tions shows.    And  now  that  he  has  his  school  for 


302  THE  NEW  MOVEMENT 

students  of  the  theatre  endowed  and  actually  started 
in  Florence,  we  may  expect  to  have  many  more 
artists  of  the  theatre  to  carry  on  the  good  work. 

Gordon  Craig's  service  to  the  theatre  is  so  vari- 
ous that  a  summary  is  difficult;  but  because  his  in- 
fluence does  exist  in  so  many  fields,  the  summing 
up  of  the  theatre's  debt  to  him  is  doubly  necessary, 
that  the  final  understanding  may  not  be  confused. 
'His  service  lies  in  two  general  directions:  first,  in 
what  is  practically  the  creation  of  a  new  art  of  the 
theatre,  the  aesthetic  drama,  an  impressionistic  form 
in  which  a  sweet  exaltation  comes  to  the  spectator 
through  the  artist's  decorative  use  of  dramatic  ma- 
terials (without  stress  on  spoken  words  and  some- 
times without  living  action)  ;  second,  in  influencing 
away  from  an  unbeautiful  naturalism  that  other 
legitimate  form,  the  psychologic  drama,  the  drama 
of  character  development  and  soul  crises.  In  the 
creation  of  the  new  art  his  work  is  unfinished,  but 
it  is  opening  up  to  humanity  undreamed  of  vistas  of 
beauty,  promising  a  glorious  new  satisfaction  of 
man's  desire  for  sensuous  enjoyment.  In  his  service 
to  the  psychologic  drama  he  has  started  that 
wholesome  reaction  against  a  strained  imitation  and 
against  distracting  naturalism  in  setting,  in  lighting, 
in  acting,  that  is  the  most  vital  movement  in  the 
"regular"  theatre  to-day.  He  brought  into  the 
theatre  a  new  conception  of  production  as  one  in- 
tegral harmonious   art.      In   his   insistence   on  the 


GORDON  CRAIG'S  SERVICE        303 

unified  building  up  of  his  new  art  he  voiced  a  need 
quite  as  pressing  for  the  other  form — the  need  for 
artists  of  the  theatre.  The  training  of  such  artists 
is,  indeed,  his  one  great  practical  remedy  for  the 
evils  of  the  playhouse.  His  service  to  the  theatre 
through  his  writings  is  inestimable  because,  imper- 
fect though  his  essays  may  be,  they  are  instinct  with 
revolutionary  ideas,  and  stimulating  to  the  imagina- 
tion, invariably  impregnating  the  reader's  mind  with 
the  desire  to  create.  His  essays,  experiments  and 
exhibitions  were  the  first  source  of  inspiration  to 
Hevesi,  and  Stanislavsky,  and  Max  Relnhardt  and 
to  the  several  others  who  are  doing  pioneer  work 
in  the  theatre  of  to-morrow.  They  are  putting  into 
practice,  often  timidly  or  blunderingly  perhaps,  those 
principles  which  Gordon  Craig  had  hardly  more  than 
stated  in  theory.  He  is  the  prophet  and  they  are 
the  followers. 

Such  is  the  service  of  this  man  of  art,  this  genius, 
who,  like  all  prophets,  was  born  into  a  generation 
which  could  not  understand  him.  It  is  not  to  be 
expected  that  he  would  be  accepted  by  those  money- 
changers in  the  temple  whose  false  order  he  is  up- 
setting. But  the  new  race  of  artists  of  the  theatre, 
those  men  who  will  build  this  art  anew  upon  the 
principles  which  underlie  all  the  true  arts,  for  all 
time  to  come  will  acknowledge  him  as  the  master. 


•4 


INDEX 


Abbey  Theatre,  Dublin,  87,  147 

Ade,  George,  116 

-(Esthetic  Theatre,  The,  17,  45, 

256 
Alexander,  John  W.,  172 
American  Plapvrights,  41,  91 
American  Producers,  151 
Ames,  Winthrop,  147,  171,  185, 

193 
Anglin,  Margaret,  171 
Anti-Matrimony,    104 
Appia,  Adolphe,  146 
Applause  in  the  Theatre,  231 
Arms  and  the  Man,  80 
As  a  Man  Thinks,  108 

Baker,  Elizabeth,  40,  86 
Baker,  George  Pierce,  187 
Bakst,  Leon,  61,  124 
Barker,    Granville,   30,    33,   39, 

81,  147 
Barrie,  J.  M.,  39,  82 
Belasco,   David,   100,    110,   147, 

152,  164,  271 
Bennett,    Arnold,    39,    83 
Bird  of  Paradise,  The,  111 
Bjornson,  33,  67,  266 
Blindness  of  Virtue,  The,  40,  86 
Blue  Bird,  The,  57,  146 
Boris  Godounov,  172 


Boston  Opera  House,  41,  172 
Bought  and  Paid  For,  109 
Brieux,  33,  68,  266 
Broadhurst,  George,  42,  109 
Bronson-Howard,  George,  116 
Browne,  Maurice,  169,  179 
Burton,  Richard,  190 

Candida,  80 

Cannan,  Gilbert,  86 

Chains,  40,  86 

Cliicago  Theatre  Society,  181 

Coburn  Players,  185 

Columbia  University,  191 

Corbin,  John,   116 

Craig,  Gordon,  18,  28,  46,  123, 

140,  142,  147,  218,  238,  258 
Crothers,  Rachel,  116 
Cupola-horizon,  133,  221 
Czeschka,  Carl,  143 

Dance-Drama,  24,  59,  258 
Dartmouth  College,  191 
DeMille,  William  C,  110 
Dickinson,  Thomas  H.,  191 
Double  Proscenium  Arch,  219 
Drama  of  Emotion,  72,  259 
Drama  of  Sincerity,  34,  73,  92 
Drama  of  Thought,  32,  262 


305 


3o6 


INDEX 


Easiest  Way,  The,  106 

Eldest  Son,  The,  79 

English  School  of  Dramatists, 

33,  67 
Erler,  Fritz,  134,  144 
Ervine,  St.  John,  40,  85 

Faun,  The,  111 
Faversham,  William,  171 
Fernald,  Chester  Bailey,  111 
Fine  Arts  Theatre,  Chicago,  182 
Fine  Feathers,  106 
Forbes,  James,  116 
Forest  Theatre,  Carmel,  184 
Fortuny  Lighting  System,  141, 

220 
Fourth  Estate,  The,  113 
Fuchs,  Georg,  29,  58,  123,  144 

1 
Galsworthy,   John,   33,   36,   38^ 

78,  266 
Gates,  Eleanor,  42,  114 
German  Theatres,  29,  145 
Getting  Married,  81 
Giacosa,  Giuseppe,  33 
Gihnore,  W.  H.,  172 
Gliese,  Rochus,  145 
Gorky,  Maxim,  33 
Great  Adventure,  The,  83 
Greek  Theatre,  Berkeley,  195 
Greet,  Ben,  185 
Gregory,  Lady,  85 

Hale,  Gardner,  170 
Half  an  Hour,  82 
Hamilton,  Clayton,  52 
Hamilton,  Cosmo,  40,  86 


Hamlet,   Gordon   Craig's   Pro- 
duction of,  28 
Hankin,  St.  John,  39,  72,  85 
Harvard  University,  170,  187 
Hastings,  Macdonald,  40,  86 
Hauptmann,  Gerhart,  33, 67, 266 
Hevesi,  Alexander,  30,  58,  146 
Hewlett,  J.  Monroe,  172 
High  Road,  The,  112 
Hindle  Wakes,  36,  40,  84 
Hopkins,  Arthur,  147,  171 
Houghton,  Stanley,  36,  40,  84 
Hull  House  Players,  183 
Hume,  Sam,  170 

Ibsen,  33,  33,  67, 70, 266, 275, 276 

Idealism,  268 

Irish  Dramatists,  40,  85 

Japanese  Settings,  140 
Jones,  Henry  Arthur,  72,  262 
Joy,  79 
Justice,  38,  79 

Kennedy,  Charles  Rann,  113 

Kenyon,  Charles,  42,  113 

Kindling,  113 

Kismet,  111 

Klein,  Charles,  41,  101,  108. 

Knoblauch,   Edward,  42,  111 

Lake  Forest   Players,   184 
Lefler,  Heinrich,  145 
Lion  and  the  Mouse,  The,  109 
Little  Dream,  The,  79 
Little  Theatre,  Chicago,  41,  169, 
179,  226 


INDEX 


307 


LitUc  Theatre,  New  York,  185, 

S2S 
Little  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  184 
Littmann,  Max,  145,  223 
Locke,  Edward,  116 

MacKaye,  Percy,  41,  104  - 
Madras  House,  The,  39,  82 
Maeterlinck,  Maurice,  67    — 
Maggie  Pepper,  109 
Man  arid  Superman,  81 
Manchester  Repertory  Theatre, 

36,  86 
Marionettes,  21,  49,  284 
Marrying  of  Ann  Leete,  The,%\ 
Masefield,  John,  36,  39,  84 
Masks,  299 
Mater,  104 

Matthews,  Brander,  191 
Maxine    Elliott    Theatre,    New 

York,  225 
Mimo-drama,  22,  53,  284 
Middleton,   George,  116 
Miracle,  The,  56 
Moderwell,  H.  K.,  184 
Moscow  Art  Theatre,  58 
Mrt.   Warren's  Profession,  81 
Munich  Art  Theatre,  144,  224 
Munich  Marionette  Theatre,  51 

Nan,  36,  39,  84 

Naturalism,  270 

New  Movement  in  the  Theatre, 

13 
Nigger,  The,  112 

(EdipuB  Bex,  57 


Open-air  Theatres,  194 
Orlik,  Emil,  143 

Pageants,  24 
Paid  in  Full,   106 
Pantomime — See  Mimo-drama 
Patterson,  Joseph  Medill,  112, 

184 
Pavlowa,  61 
Peabody,     Josephine     Preston, 

105 
Peg  o'  My  Heart,  114 
Peter  Pan,  82 
Phelps,  William  Lyon,  190 
Pigeon,  The,  79 
Pinero,  Arthur,  71,  261 
Piper,  The,  105 
Piatt,  Livingston,  41,  168,  172, 

181 
Play  with  a  Punch,  The,  97 
Plays  and  Players  Society,  184 
Poetry,  271 

Pollock,  Channing,  116 
Poor  Little  Rich  Girl,  The,  114 
Princess    Theatre,    New    York, 

186 
Psychologic  Drama,  31,  266,289 
Puppets — See  Marionettes 

Realism,  269 

Reinhardt,  Max,  23,  29,  48,  54, 

58,  123,  143 
Relief-theatre,  29,  144 
Repertory   Theatre   Movement, 

87 
Re-theatralizing  the  Drama,  36, 

67 


3o8 


INDEX 


Revolving  Stage,  219 
Robertson,  Donald,  185 
Romance,  112 

Rose  of  the  Rancho,  The,  111 
Rostand,  Edmond,  68 
Rothenstein,  Albert,  147 
Rouche,    Jacques,   30,   58,   123, 

146 
Russian  Ballet,  25,  59,  124,  258' 
Rutherford  and  Son,  40,  85 

Salvation  Nell,  112 
Sappho  and  Phaon,  104 
Scarecrow,  The,  104 
Scheherazade,  62 
Schnitzler,  Arthur,  67 
Schoonmaker,     Edwin     Davies, 

116 
Screen  Settings,  Gordon  Craig's, 

28,  140,  143,  218 
Second  Mrs.  Tanqueray,  The,  71 
Servant  in  the  House,  The,  113 
Settings — See   Stagecraft 
Shakespeare,  295 
Shaw,  Bernard,  33,  38,  79,  238, 

266 
Sheldon,  Edward,  42,  112 
Silver  Box,  The,  38,  78 
Sowerby,  Githa,  40,  84 
Stagecraft,  The   New,  26,  121,- 

154,  217,  290 
Stage  Society,  London,  86 
Stage  Society,  New  York,  186 
Stanford  University,  191 
Stanislavsky,  Constantin,  30, 58, 

146 
Starke,  Ottoraar,  58 


Stern,  Ernst,  143 
Strife,  36,  38,  78 
Strindberg,  33,  67 
Strom,   Knut,  145 
Strong,  Austin,  116 
Sturm,  Eduard,  145 
Sudermann,  33,  67 
Sumurun,  23,  55,  135 
Symbolism,  271 
Synge,  40,  85 

Tchekhoff,  33 

Theatre  Architecture,  207 

ThMtre  Libre,  86 

Theory  of  the  Theatre,  243 

Third  Degree,  The,  109 

Thomas,  A.  E.,  116 

Thomas,  Augustus,  42,  107 

Tolstoy,  33,  254,  301 

To-morrow,  104 

Toy   Theatre,  Boston,  41,  168, 

180 
Tree,    Herbert  Beerbohm,  147, 

156,  167,  271 
Tully,  Richard  Walton,  110 
Twelve-pound  Look,  The,  83 

University  of  California,  188 
University  of  Wisconsin,  191 
University     Productions,     169, 

186 
Urban,  Joseph,  172 

Veiller,  Bayard,  114 

Von  Hofmann,  Ludwig,  143 

Voysey  Inheritance,  The,  39,  81 


INDEX 


309 


Walser,  Karl,  145 
Walter,  Eugene,  41,  106 
Waste,  39,  81 
Wedekind,  33,  67 
Wellesley  College,  191 
Well-made  Play,  The,  72,  261 
What  Every  Woman  Knows,  82 
What  the  Public  Wants,  83 
Wilde,  Oscar,  73 
Wilkinson,  Norman,  147 
Within  the  Law,  114 


Wisconsin     Dramatic     Society, 

192 
Woman,  The,  110 

Yale  Dramatic  Association,  188 
Years  of  Discretion,  114 
Yeats,  William  Butler,  85 
Yellow  Jacket,  The,  91,  173 
You  Never  Can  Tell,  80 

Zangwill,  Israel,  40,  86 


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